Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom's Phantom
by QuantumShard
Summary: A British soldier, Jonathan Hyde, becomes embroiled in the battle between XOF and Big Boss. However, his entry into their lives causes everything to change on a massive scale. (Alternate Universe & Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain spoilers)
1. Questions & Answers

**Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom's Phantom**

 **Chapter 1 - Questions & Answers**

Night had fallen over the Seychelles, bathing a massive offshore platform and its occupants in darkness and silence. The only exception was a vast warehouse that was used for the storage of the supplies necessary for prolonged living in a location that was miles from civilisation. Two men, both blonde, but one possessed a thin moustache and wore a long, stereotypical cowboy duster coat and spurs on his boots, while the other was lacking an arm and wore a beret with an army issue dress uniform were keenly watching a third male that was suspended from the ceiling by his wrists.

He was an unremarkable man, brunette with a slight stubble forming and muscular tone fitting of an individual who kept in shape, but didn't focus on it. His body was also covered in various bruises and cuts of varying sizes, indicative of him sustaining prolonged torture. He was unresponsive, but the laboured yet regular breathing that was being performed indicated to the two witnesses that he was still alive.

"Not much to look at, is he?" The cowboy remarked quietly in a Russian accent, while circling round the lifeless male before addressing his colleague. "What do you make of him, Miller?"

"Took the words out of my mouth, Ocelot." Miller replied indifferently. "Clearly a soldier, but not in the infantry. After all, he was recovered from a military hospital with Snake. Possibly in a more academic or administrative position."

Miller paused and pinched the bridge of his nose in thought before continuing.

"By the way, how is Snake?"

"Hard to say." Ocelot said quietly with a hint of concern. "He had only just regained consciousness from a nine year coma. The medical staff are clueless as to whether he'll even live, let alone wake up."

Miller let his words process before sniffing derisively.

"Well, this one's had enough time to rest. Wake him up."

Ocelot nodded before approaching their naked guest and gently cupping his left cheek for a brief moment. Suddenly, Ocelot raised his left hand and slapped the guest soundly. The response was immediate as the once unconscious brunette woke up with a loud gasp, followed by a pitiful whine as his mind was greeted by the complaints of his many wounds, ranging from the rope burn irritating his wrists to the cuts that had been inflicted on him by a whip. His eyes opened slowly, his sight blurry but capable of recognising who had struck him.

"Rise and shine." Ocelot teased acidly, his hand still caressing the unharmed cheek. "How was your nap?"

"Bliss." He replied hoarsely, the amount of screaming he had provided during his beatings had caused him to lose his voice somewhat. "Care to come back later?"

Ocelot's indifferent expression melted into a happy grin as he began to laugh heartily at their guest's quip, even going so far as to give him a round of applause. Miller, on the other hand, was unimpressed.

"Very good! Clearly, you are British through and through." Ocelot deduced. "Only a true Briton would continue to act in such a manner, even after being so violently beaten."

As quickly as the laughter had begun, it vanished as Ocelot held his captive in place and punched him in the stomach, eliciting an audible wheeze as all the air was removed from the naked man's lungs.

"But enough of the niceties, we shall start from the beginning. Who are you?"

Winded and light headed, he didn't respond as he struggled to breathe in enough oxygen to regain the ability to speak. Recognising this, Ocelot did not punish him, but crossed his arms and let the prisoner recover.

"J-Jonathan." He gasped. "Jonathan Hyde, British Army."

Miller sighed in exasperation, while Ocelot raised an eyebrow.

"Is he seriously sticking to that?" Miller retorted angrily, taking the few steps necessary for him to stand beside the Russian cowboy and glare at Jonathan. "You and I both saw him with Snake. He's clearly lying!"

Ocelot raised his hand, causing Miller to fall silent with an irritated grunt.

"Saw them together, yes. Him relatively unharmed while The Boss was practically dead, yes." He responded bluntly. "But we did not see this man harm him. So, let's give him a chance. Tell us what happened, Jonathan."

* * *

"It's nothing but a dislocated shoulder, Jonathan." The nurse explained to him. Jonathan had been admitted to Dhekelia SBA Memoral Hospital, a military hospital that was part of the British Sovereign Base Area of Dhekelia. Present as a member of the formation that was assigned to staff the military installation there, it was a relatively cushy and quiet existence, the monotony of regular army life broken up by relaxing in the Mediterranean sun. However, an attempt at impressing his fellow squaddies by attempting to jump from a tree into a local lake had ended in misery. He'd lost his nerve and tried to grab a tree branch to prevent his fall, but had dislocated his arm and fell into the water anyway. After his colleagues had enjoyed a good laugh, they finally noticed he was injured and had him rushed to the medic.

Now, he was stuck in a stuffy hospital ward filled with individuals who were far more injured than himself. In the beds next to him were men who were so injured that their faces were completely obscured by bandages. Jonathan had been able to hear the doctors explaining to one of them, named Ishmael, that he had been in a coma and that his friend needed plastic surgery. Regardless, he had resigned himself to being bedridden for the next few days with his arm in a sling.

"Out in a few days, light desk work and such, I assume?" He asked wryly with a raised eyebrow, eliciting a chuckle from the nurse.

"Right you are." She replied and nodded her head. "But for now, you stay in bed and don't use that arm."

Sighing heavily, Jonathan rolled his eyes and lay back down to enable the possibility of a nap, a possibility that swiftly became a reality. However, it was not to last.

Waking up, Jonathan noticed that it was dark. He had slept for longer than he had believed. Sighing, he closed his eyes once more to continue his slumber before the sound of an inhuman scream tore through the air. Jonathan sat up in surprise as he listened silently to the sound of what could only be described as a female being subjected to the fires of hell. As quickly as they began, they ended with the shattering of broken glass. Giving his eyes a swift rub to remove the sleep from his eyes, Jonathan realised that he was no longer in his usual spot next to the two bandaged men. He had been moved to another room while he slept.

He took a deep breath and exhaled before hopping out of bed and approaching the door. After waiting a few moments for any more noise to occur, he opened the door slightly to see what was occurring outside his room. Greeting his view was the sight of the back of Ishmael, dressed in a green surgical gown, quietly padding his way along the corridor towards the reception area. Behind him was the second disfigured man, dragging himself weakly across the floor with one hand, while the other had been replaced with a prosthetic claw. Jonathan cursed under his breath, having had no idea that this second man had lost his forearm, he felt guilty that he had been so silly in breaking his arm, while this man had lost his.

"This isn't going to work. We'd better take the elevator!" Ishmael hissed before disappearing down a junction, followed by his armless companion. Jonathan waited a while to see if the coast was clear, but a sudden explosion and the reappearance of the two bandaged patients as they were thrown back by the blast made him reconsider and shut the door.

"Shit." Jonathan remarked as he ran over to his window and opened it. Upon looking down at the ground below, he smiled as he noticed that below him was the slate roof of the balcony below him. He climbed out of the window and dropped down just as the sound of helicopters filled the air, followed by the appearance of one shining a searchlight over the building. Panicking, Jonathan went limp and let his body lay lifelessly on the tiles. He closed his eyes and counted his blessings as he felt the glare of the searchlight beat down on his eyes. Praying, he expected the people on board the helicopter to open fire, but instead, the light disappeared as it was moved to illuminate an area elsewhere. With a sigh of relief, Jonathan crawled to the edge of the roof and lowered himself onto the balcony of the floor below.

The balcony was connected to a doctors office. Jonathan opened the door an entered. The room was dark and the only thing he could see was the faint outline of a human sat in the office chair behind the desk.

"Hey!" Jonathan hissed urgently, but was given no response. He huffed, approached the figure and put his hand on its shoulder. His hand immediately felt wet, causing him to move it away and examine it. Squinting, he could see that his hand was now a few shades darker than its normal white.

"Blood." He deduced as he fumbled around with the contents of the desk to see if a desk lamp was present. Luckily, there was and it was switched on to reveal that Jonathan's guess was correct. The doctor who resided in the office was sat in his chair, however the hole in his forehead, the blood over his body and the expression of abject horror clearly showed he was deceased. Jonathan gasped at the sight and stumbled back, causing him to trip over the power cable of the lamp and pull it off the table. The lamp fell to the floor and shattered into pieces, accompanied by the fizzing of electricity as it died.

"Someone's in the office!" A voice called out from outside the room. The beams of flash lights then began to illuminate the window of the office door as the people Jonathan had alerted approached. Jonathan glanced round the room for a place to hide. Upon noticing a closet, he rushed inside and shut it as the door opened, followed by the dull thud of boots on the floor. Terrified, Jonathan held his breath as he listened intently to the boots as they walked away and towards him repeatedly, showing that whoever owned them was searching the office. It wasn't long before they stopped right outside of the closet. Jonathan clenched his eyes shut, he wanted to scream and flail his way out of there in an attempt to subdue whoever was outside, but knew it was a foolish move. However, the urge became too great and he pushed on the door with all his strength.

There was a cry of agony as the man outside, dressed in combat fatigues and a helmet, while armed with a silenced pistol and assault rifle. Jonathan had burst the door open at the exact moment he was about to open it, causing the door to break his nose as it crashed into his face. Jonathan trembled in panic before falling to his knees and wrapping hands round his assailants throat, turning the agonising cry into a gurgle as he began to strangle the soldier.

"Shut up!" Jonathan whispered in terror. The soldier responded by grasping Jonathan's hands to try and remove them, his legs flailing wildly in an attempt to dislodge the terrified patient strangling him to death. However, Jonathan remained steadfast, continuing to repeat his order for the soldier to be quiet as his struggle began to subside, oxygen deprivation having tired him out and making him slip into unconsciousness. Jonathan let go once he stopped struggling and looked at his hands in bewilderment. He'd never been in combat or killed anyone, now he was sat astride a body that was no longer moving.

"Oh shit." He whimpered before shaking his attempted killer. "Wake up!"

No response came. Jonathan let go and looked around him. It was now eerily quiet with just him and the unconscious assassin beneath him. Biting his lower lip, Jonathan looked down again and placed his hand on the soldiers face.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered, completely clueless to the fact that he'd only made his victim lose consciousness. Jonathan sniffled as a tear rolled down his cheek. He'd never killed anyone before, his position in the army had never been one that had him put in combat. He reached out and closed the soldiers eyes, their vacant expression frightened him. Jonathan stared at his assailant quietly, processing what he had just done. Shaking his head, he growled defiantly as he unbuttoned the combat fatigues to allow him access to the unconscious soldiers chest. Jonathan placed his hand in an attempt to find a heartbeat and let out a sigh of relief when he could hear the faint sound of one.

"Thank Christ for that." He whispered to himself before buttoning the soldiers clothing again.

Jonathan glanced around and picked up the dropped pistol before standing up and heading to the door. While peeking through the window, the soldiers radio crackled into life. Through the static, the sender requested the unconscious soldier to report. Jonathan shook his head, they'll come looking for him when he won't respond. Quietly, he opened the door and padded out, his hand placing the pistol in the waistband of his hospital issue trousers tightly for comfort as he began to wander aimlessly through the halls of the hospital. Realising that he needed to get out, Jonathan took the simple approach of following the signs to the main entrance. Upon arrival, he spotted Ishmael's armless friend knelt beside the railings of the stairs leading from the first floor to the ground floor. The ground floor foyer was alive with flames and the dancing beams of flash lights from the numerous soldiers sweeping the building.

Jonathan pressed himself against the wall and watched the armless man silently. It became apparent that he was waiting for the right moment to strike or sneak past the soldiers on the floor below as he swiftly padded his away down the stairs when most of the enemy dispersed to search other areas of the hospital. Jonathan huffed in frustration as he watched the disfigured male disappear out of the front door like a ghost. Unable to replicate such a feat, Jonathan opted for entering a storage room that was close by and climb out of the window instead. Looking down, he noticed that the fall he was about to have would be broken by a bush.

"Good enough." He remarked quietly as he climbed out and let himself hang from the window sill before taking a deep breath and letting go. His descent felt like it lasted an eternity before it came to an end as he landed roughly in the bush. The foliage poked and scratched him as he struggled to crawl his way out. Upon succeeding, he lay on his stomach and watched as an ambulance pulled up outside of the hospital in front of the armless male he'd been following. He was surprised when the door opened and the faint voice of Ishmael beckoning his companion to join him emanated from the vehicle.

"Clever boy." Jonathan stated with a smile as he broke cover and made a dash for the ambulance. To his horror, the vehicle roared into life and began to drive away. Cursing under his breath, he put all his strength into sprinting towards the ambulance, allowing him one opportunity to reach out and grab hold of the rear door handles. Jumping, he barely succeeded in holding onto the handles as he landed on the running board of the ambulance. Looking behind him, Jonathan was amazed to see a man that appeared to be completely engulfed in flames emerge from the front entrance of the ruined hospital. His mouth fell open as he gazed upon the sight, a man that was on fire, but showed no signs of being harmed.

Suddenly, the man on fire exploded, causing the door Jonathan was holding onto to burst open. It swung wildly, threatening to send him flying off the ambulance and into the surrounding scenery, but he persevered, disregarding the agony that was shooting down his injured shoulder as it was wrenched and twisted by the efforts exerted to keep its owner on the ambulance. The ride became even rougher as the vehicle swerved violently. Jonathan cursed as he imagined the two men in the driver and passenger seats were attempting to dislodge him from their escape vehicle, but was proven wrong when two fire appliances roared past, sirens blaring as they made their way to the hospital that was now fully ablaze. However, as they arrived on the scene, another explosion, presumably from the man on fire, sent the lead appliance flying.

"Jesus Christ!" Jonathan yelled as he saw the turntable ladder flip over by the force of the blast. His thoughts on the spectacle were cut short as the ambulance swerve again to let two more fire appliances past. Jonathan shook his head and whispered a silent prayer for them, knowing that they were going to be confronting more than a fire. Looking forward, Jonathan could see the open road ahead, bathed in the night sky over Cyprus. The idyllic sight was soon crushed when another turntable ladder appeared from the sky and landed in front of the ambulance.

"You have got to be kidding me." Jonathan muttered as the ambulance attempted to swerve round the wrecked fire appliance, but instead flipped over. Jonathan's grip on the door handle failed and he was sent flying through the air while the ambulance and its occupants rolled across the landscape. As quickly as the trip into the air began, it ended as Jonathan hit the ground. The stones and dirt that made the landscape scraped against his skin, tearing it away and causing him to cry out in pain. He'd heard of the concept of gravel rash when he'd been on a posting in West Germany and their commanding officer had warned them about the dangers of motorbikes and driving carelessly on the Autobahn, but he'd never experienced agony like this as he continued to roll over the stones that tore at his fragile form.

Eventually, his journey petered out and he lay motionless on the ground. Every fibre of his being ached as he became slightly aware of the numerous grazes and cuts that he'd sustained. Sighing, Jonathan made no attempt to move, content to let his body have a brief respite from exertion after having been so ferociously beaten and bruised. After a few moments, he reached behind him to see if his pistol was still in his possession. He rolled his eyes upon finding that it was gone, he knew that it would never have been able to stay put after the ride he'd just experienced, but had checked anyway. He then looked up to see his surroundings and was surprised to see Ishmael's companion lying in the road, the wrecked ambulance close by, but Ishmael himself was nowhere to be seen.

Summoning all the strength he could muster, Jonathan dragged himself painfully towards the armless man. Every inch he pulled himself closer caused his body to complain with overwhelming agony. Everything in his body begged him to stop and just lay where he was so that they could take just a little while longer to begin the long road to repairing the damage it had sustained, but Jonathan ignored the suggestion. Eventually, after much grunting and gasping in pain, he arrived at the unconscious form of Ishmael's friend. Jonathan reached out and touched the man's forehead. He was a brunette, with a full beard and a bandage over his forehead. Also of note was the fact that one of his eyes were cloudy, suggesting that he was blind, and a huge piece of metal was protruding from his head. Too weak to care, Jonathan gently shook him in an attempt to wake him up.

"Hey!" He whispered weakly. "Wake up!"

No response came. Jonathan sighed and closed his eyes, exhaustion and the agony causing his body to take over and force him to lose consciousness. With a contented sigh, he let the darkness embrace him and let himself lay over his armless compatriot.

* * *

Miller and Ocelot listened intently as Jonathan told his tale. Once he had finished, they looked at each other. Miller looked more unimpressed and furious than ever, while Ocelot's expression had softened to a considerable degree.

"And that's everything?" Ocelot enquired. "Completely everything?"

Jonathan nodded weakly in response, while Miller turned away. The audible click of a pistols hammer being cocked echoed round the warehouse as he turned back and put a pistol to the bound Britons forehead.

"It doesn't matter now." Miller stated in an ice cold tone. "Even if you are completely innocent. I don't trust you, nor do I believe you can be trusted with keeping your mouth shut."

Ocelot looked at the pistol that was now pressed against Jonathan's forehead and raised an eyebrow.

"So, you're going to just kill an unarmed man?" Ocelot asked incredulously. "Just like that? Not even give him a chance to run or defend himself?"

Miller paused, his cold stare boring into Jonathan's soul before replying.

"Yes."

Ocelot exhaled a deep breath through his nose, processing the callous nature of what Miller had just admitted. Suddenly, his hand raised up and grasped Miller's arm in an attempt to push the pistol away from Jonathan's forehead. However, Miller pulled the trigger as the barrel of the gun was still over Jonathan's face. The explosion from the pistol echoed round the warehouse as the bullet collided with Jonathan's face, hitting the edge of his right eye socket. Blood and fragments of skull exploded into the air as Jonathan screamed in agony. His face felt like it was on fire as it was burnt by the gun's proximity to him and it felt wet as blood began to cover his face from the horrific wound that had been inflicted upon his head. He spluttered and whined as Ocelot snatched the gun away from Miller and swiftly field stripped it in front of his eyes.

"That's enough." He ordered before reaching into his duster coat to retrieve a handheld radio for the purpose of calling medical assistance.


	2. Unorthodox Initiation

**Unorthodox Initiation**

The sun rose on a new day over the Indian Ocean. All was quiet on the offshore platform that Jonathan had been taken to and tortured on, resulting in the loss of his eye in a botched attempt to execute him. After Ocelot had disarmed Miller, the man responsible for robbing him of his eye, he'd been swiftly taken to the medical wing set up on the platform. As the sun's rays peeked through the windows and beat down on his remaining eye, he began to stir, bothered by the brightness burning through his eyelid. Rolling over, Jonathan let out a happy sigh as the light proved unable to annoy him in his new position and he settled down to head back to sleep.

"Enjoying yourself?" A familiar Russian voice teased. Sitting up in surprise, Jonathan looked to see who was near him. Upon realising it was the man who'd beaten him, he raised his left hand up and clenched it into a fist in a feeble attempt to show he was ready for a fight. Ocelot chuckled and raised his own hands up submissively.

"I come in peace." He quipped and then showed both sides of his hands as a sign of sincerity. Jonathan sighed and relaxed, letting his hand fall back onto the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit." Jonathan admitted while laying back down. "Everything aches, especially my shoulder. That adventure with the ambulance was the last thing the nurse wanted me to do. I always seem to be in the habit of disappointing the ladies."

Ocelot listened quietly, smiling at how the man he'd been beating senselessly mere hours before was now chatting like they were old friends. He took a moment to scratch an itch on his forehead before pulling a chair closer to the infirmary bed and sitting down.

"Once again, you amuse and surprise me." Ocelot stated frankly. "Only last night, I was beating you to a pulp. Now you act as if nothing has happened."

"I'll be honest. I don't really remember anything about last night after that ambulance crash. As for beating me to a pulp, I can safely say you did a good job. Everything fucking hurts."

"I am flattered." The Russian replied with a smile. "But then interrogation is something of a passion of mine and an area of expertise, so it is to be expected."

"Did you learn much from me?"

"Nothing, although we took something from you."

Jonathan's eyebrow raised suspiciously at Ocelot's remark.

"Took what?" He asked in a low tone. Ocelot reached into his coat and retrieved a mirror, which he promptly reached out with to pass to Jonathan.

"See for yourself. I am sorry I couldn't stop it from happening."

Jonathan nervously lifted his right hand to take the mirror. He stopped upon noticing that he had an IV drip attached to him and examined it closely.

"Just to point out, that's not saline in that drip." Ocelot explained cautiously. "But painkillers."

Upon hearing that, Jonathan sat up and snatched the mirror from Ocelot to look at his reflection. The vast majority of the right side of his head was completely covered in bandages. The bandages covering his right eye were stained slightly red with his blood. Dropping the mirror, Jonathan looked up at Ocelot in terror.

"What the fuck have you done!?" He hissed. "I look like a mummy!"

Ocelot fidgeted and coughed before replying.

"A colleague of mine wished to have you killed. He failed, but managed to..." He began, but trailed off as he tried to consider a way of revealing the extent of the damage done to Jonathan without alarming him. After a few moments, he sighed, realising there was no way he could sugar-coat the loss of an eye.

"Shoot one of your eyes."

Silence fell as Jonathan stared at Ocelot. He was thunderstruck at the revelation that he was now the proud owner of just one eye. His hand trembled as he began to touch the bandages, silently praying that this was all a nightmare and that he'd wake up still in Cyprus.

"I'm sorry." Ocelot said sincerely, causing Jonathan to look back at him. He blinked and then let out a large sigh before looking down at the bedsheets. A single tear rolled down from Jonathan's remaining eye and landed on the white bed linen. After a few more moments, he clenched his fists and looked up at Ocelot angrily.

"Well, you might as well finish the job!" Jonathan exclaimed. "You've already shot out my eye. Why don't you finish me off!?"

Ocelot frowned and crossed his arms.

"Because I have no reason to kill you. Granted, I would kill you without hesitation if I needed to. However, I do not."

Jonathan huffed and then lay back down in defeat. He cursed under his breath and gritted his teeth in frustration.

"Well, that's me buggered, isn't it?" Jonathan asked. "Even if you were to let me go. I'd be fobbed off by the army and discharged since I lost an eye."

"If you're worrying about employment." Ocelot interrupted. "Then there's work that we can give you here."

Jonathan laughed incredulously at the suggestion.

"Yes! I'd love to! Work for the pricks who shot my eye. Thanks for the warm welcome, mate." He joked acidly. "It's what I've always wanted become One Eyed Jon the... Whatever you people do."

"We're soldiers."

Jonathan looked at Ocelot in surprise. In all his life, he'd never expected to see a soldier dressed as an American cowboy of The Old West.

"Oh really? What country?"

"We do not represent a country." Ocelot said gravely while standing up. "We are soldiers who have no flag. We fight because we have no other calling in life. We take pride in our work, even if those that hire us believe it to be an unsavoury job."

"Mercenaries?"

"Yes."

"Technically, I'm still a British soldier. My duty is still to queen and country."

"Then I'll have to kill you."

Jonathan dead panned at Ocelot's statement, unimpressed at his attempt to 'hire' him.

"So, I either betray my country and work for you or I die?" He clarified. Ocelot nodded in response, causing Jonathan to roll his eye and sigh in exasperation. After a few moments of silence, he nodded at Ocelot.

"Very well. Welcome to The Diamond Dogs. I am Ocelot." Ocelot said proudly and reached his hand out to shake Jonathan's hand. Hesitantly, Jonathan accepted the handshake.

"Jonathan Hyde." He replied weakly, causing Ocelot to chuckle.

"I know that. That was my first question when I tortured you last night."

"Is that how you greet all of your potential recruits?"Jonathan joked, causing Ocelot's smile to broaden.

"Only some." He retorted before turning towards the door and making his exit. "Don't worry, we'll let you recover before you actually get to do anything."

Jonathan remained silent as he watched his new employer leave. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully before laying back down to relax and mull over what had just happened.

"Join the army they said." Jonathan remarked to himself sarcastically. "It'll be fun they said. You'll spend time in the nice hot sun, get paid, come home and get a proper job. Well, fuck you, random recruiting sergeant."

After exhaling a forced laugh, Jonathan rolled over so that he was once again out of the sun's unforgiving rays and closed his eye, desperate to be taken away to dream land so he could forget about the misfortune that had befallen him.

* * *

The days of burning sun passed by slowly. It had been two weeks since Jonathan had been subjugated and he had recovered relatively well. The right side of his face was still slightly scarred from the gunpowder burn and the bullet wound that had removed part of his eye socket and his eye, but that was merely cosmetic. His shoulder injury and wounds from his session of torture at the hands of Ocelot were no longer present and he was more than capable of normal movement. While recovering, Jonathan had been visited regularly by his Russian employer. He had asked more questions about where he was and what he would be doing now that he was a member, albeit a forced member, of The Diamond Dogs. Ocelot had explained that he was on an offshore platform near the Seychelles called Mother Base, the location that all Diamond Dogs called home. He would eat, sleep and train here, leaving only to engage in operations, a measure implemented because he was only employed under duress and not voluntarily offered his services.

Jonathan was busy doing some stretches beside his hospital bed. He was still not permitted to leave the infirmary, but didn't take that as permission to let his already weakened physique from getting any worse. He was still a soldier, a soldier with no banner and no choice, but a soldier none the less. He heard the familiar sound of the door opening, signifying another visit from Ocelot.

"Hello there, sir!" He greeted with mock cheerfulness before turning towards his visitor. Present was not just Ocelot, but Miller too. Jonathan was quick to lose all sense of happiness upon seeing the man responsible for removing his eye and folded his arms grumpily. His visitors on the other hand, were staring at him in an almost surprised manner. After a moment of awkward silence, Jonathan coughed to try and dispel the tension.

"So..." He began. "What brings the pair of you here?"

The pair continued to remain silent before Ocelot took a step forward.

"You look very similar." He remarked before turning towards Miller. "What do you think?"

"Head's too circular, but the facial hair makes it less obvious." Miller replied with a frown. "We'd see through him instantly... Others on the other hand."

Ocelot nodded at Miller's observation before turning back to Jonathan. The Briton had neglected his facial hair, having been unable to obtain a razor to perform such a simple task. This had allowed him to grow out his stubble into a beard that still had room for growth, but was quite prominent. Jonathan looked at the two Diamond Dogs with a raised eyebrow.

"Look very similar to who?" He asked suspiciously. Ocelot looked towards Miller and then back at Jonathan before beckoning the blinded Briton toward him.

"Come with me, there's someone I wish for you to see."

Ocelot was swift in his exit, while Miller continued to watch Jonthan like a hawk. Guessing that the one armed mercenary was intending to be the rear of the trio, Jonathan followed Ocelot out of his room and down the corridor to another. Upon entry, he found Ocelot stood beside a bed. Its occupant was Ishmael's armless friend, an individual that Jonathan instantly recognised. He was laying motionless in the bed, a monitor beeping rhythmically beside him while a large number of different IV drips fed a variety of different fluids into him.

"I know this man." Jonathan stated quietly while looking down at him, having moved to the side of the bed opposite Ocelot. "He was the guy that was in the ambulance."

"This man is Venom Snake or Big Boss." Ocelot explained. "The greatest soldier to have ever lived."

Jonathan fell silent as he looked at this legendary figure. He'd never actually heard of anyone named as such, nor had he ever been interested in being a big, bad soldier with millions of kills. He'd joined the army for the life experience, a mere stepping stone in his life. He looked up at Ocelot, who had Miller stood beside him.

"Why are you letting me see him?" Jonathan asked in confusion. "Wouldn't I be the last person you'd want to have seeing him if he's so great? Disregarding the guys who tried to kill him, of course."

Ocelot silently tossed a black object towards Jonathan. He caught it on instinct and looked at it. In his hands was a plain black eye patch, similar to the one that Snake was wearing, but this one didn't have two straps to help keep it in place. It was a stereotypical pirate eye patch. Jonathan looked up and showed it to Miller and Ocelot. Ocelot nodded, signifying he wanted him to put it on. Sighing, Jonathan applied the eye patch with a frown.

"Just to inform you both. I don't approve of this, it looks silly." He remarked as he adjusted the patch to ensure it covered his ruined eye socket. He then looked at the two mercenaries with a face similar to a child forced to wear a knitted jumper his grandmother made for Christmas.

"I can see it now." Miller whispered to Ocelot. The Russian nodded and picked up a mirror that was on the bedside table next to Snake and passed it to Jonathan. Looking at his reflection, Jonathan noticed that he was in desperate need of a shave and his hair had grown quite a bit. He was no longer bearing a British army crew cut, but had a mass of unkempt brown hair adorning his head. He then looked down at Snake and then back at himself. He noted the similarity, but it wasn't anything special. His beard and new eye patch were essentially the only details that he could see that made him look the same to the legendary soldier next to him.

"Okay, I have to ask. What is this about?" Jonathan asked bluntly. "I look just a little bit like him. Just a little bit, what are you trying to tell me here?"

Ocelot looked at Miller, who nodded silently.

"In World War Two, there were a number of people who impersonated General Bernard Law Montgomery. The reason was to protect him from assassination by the Nazis." Ocelot explained, causing Jonathan to deadpan at what he was implying.

"So, you want me. A British soldier, who's never seen combat, to impersonate what you claim to be the greatest soldier who ever lived?"

Miller sniffed derisively at Jonathan's admission that he'd never seen combat, causing Ocelot to look away in thought before looking back at Jonathan with a look of grave sincerity.

"Yes." Ocelot replied. Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose. The idea was ludicrous to him. As far as he was concerned, he looked nothing like Snake. They couldn't be any different. Snake was missing an arm, had a body that most women would die for and men would die to have and Jonathan had none of those attributes.

"It wouldn't work." Jonathan countered. "Last time I checked, I still have two arms. No, you can't remove one of them. Plus, this guy is apparently some kind of god or something, at least you seem to think he is. I've never seen combat. I've not killed anyone ever."

Jonathan fell silent and allowed the two mercenaries time to process what he was telling them. They looked at each other, silently communicating without even speaking. Jonathan didn't believe telepathy was occurring, but it was clear that these two knew each other intimately enough to be able to accurately guess what the other would say. Miller then turned towards a locker at the other side of the room and opened it. Inside was a military uniform, the camouflage type was not disruptive pattern material, but tiger-stripe, which Jonathan deduced would mean it was most likely not a British uniform. Miller took the uniform out by its coat hanger and threw it towards Jonathan. The Briton dead-panned once more as he caught it.

"Do I seriously have to play dress up?" He asked, but was swiftly cut off when Miller reached into his jacket and retrieved a pistol, which was promptly cocked and aimed at him. Jonathan sighed deeply, fully aware that Miller was more than capable of shooting him, the missing eye he now had was proof enough. Begrudgingly, he began to kit himself out. Every article of clothing he put on was followed by another piece of the uniform stored in the locker. Boots, webbing and a bandana soon followed, articles of clothing Jonathan obediently donned. Upon finishing, Ocelot beckoned him to come closer.

"We're going for a walk." Ocelot explained before leading Jonathan out of the room and onto the deck of Mother Base, Miller following close behind with his gun concealed, but still ready. Jonathan squinted as the sun beat down upon his form. It had been a long time since he'd been outside and wasn't used to the full force of the sun blinding his view. He raised a hand to help shade his eye and finally get a proper look round the platform he'd been a resident of.

The platform appeared to be a single strut in the middle of the ocean. The primary colour was orange, which Jonathan grimaced at. He wasn't a fan of orange, but he was hardly in a position to complain. Ocelot looked at his watch before practically dragging Jonathan towards a door marked with a sign that said 'Mess Hall'. Jonathan's heart sank as he knew exactly what Ocelot had planned. The door to the mess opened and Ocelot pushed him inside before anyone noticed that he'd been manhandling the man that looked strikingly similar to their leader.

At first, no one seemed to notice Jonathan's presence, but it wasn't long before one noticed, who swiftly told the person sat next to him. The word quickly spread and within thirty seconds, the entire mess hall fell silent as everyone turned to stare at the new entrant. Jonathan's heart raced as he felt over a dozen eyes boring into him, taking in every last detail of his personage. The silence was soon broken by a lone male voice.

"Hello, Boss!"

Jonathan looked in the general direction of the voice with a look of absolute hatred. He opened his mouth to state he wasn't Big Boss when Ocelot put his hand on his shoulder, silencing him.

"I'm glad you saw fit to see how everyone is doing. Even in your current condition." Ocelot said with mock concern, causing Jonathan to look at him with an unimpressed stare as he realised that Ocelot was forcing him into the role. He knew this would become a common theme from now on and sighed heavily.

"Please, do continue your meals." Ocelot said to the rest of the room, who dutifully obeyed and looked away towards their plates while Jonathan was escorted from the hall. After exiting, Jonathan whirled round to face Ocelot and pointed at him menacingly.

"Do you truly expect me to fucking keep this act up?" He exclaimed furiously. "I'm British, I have two arms, I am not a true fighting soldier. Why are you doing this!?"

"Because it's necessary." Ocelot replied calmly while walking back towards the infirmary. Jonathan followed with Miller in tow as the Russian continued.

"It's necessary for us to protect The Boss from the people who attempted to kill him. What better than a body double? Sure, you have a few kinks like your speech and other matters, but we can work around them. As for your arm, only a few select people know he's lost one and they have been sworn to secrecy."

"I won't hold my breath." Jonathan replied incredulously and rubbed his forehead in exasperation. "So, that's it then? I'm now the body double of the greatest soldier ever?"

Miller pursed his lips before breaking the silence he had maintained.

"Seems like that. Be proud of that." He remarked. Jonathan shot him a death stare, a stare that didn't even make Miller flinch.

"However, we have much to do." Ocelot stated while opening up Jonathan's hospital room door. "You have a lot to learn before you can be anywhere near as good as The Boss."

"Oh goodie." Jonathan replied sarcastically while rubbing his eye patch. "I guess I've got to continue wearing this silly thing then?"

"Yes."

Defeated, Jonathan nodded. He'd be stuck looking like a pirate for the foreseeable future and he wasn't pleased with that.

"We'll let you have a little while to get used to the idea." Ocelot said as Miller took this opportunity to exit the room. "I'll be here in an hour to begin your training."

Jonathan sighed and nodded. Ocelot's eyebrow raised at the attitude of the Briton before dismissing it and leaving him on his own. Laying back down on the infirmary bed, Jonathan stared up at the ceiling while his mind ticked over idly as he waited for his first session of training.

* * *

"First, we'll be working on your hand to hand combat." Ocelot explained while pacing up and down in front of Jonathan, who was stood at ease inside a sizeable gym with assorted dummies and sparring rings alongside conventional exercise equipment.

"As a Briton, your armed forces focuses more on hand to hand if you're in the elite forces. So, we'll be starting from scratch. You'll be learning a system of hand to hand combat named CQC, Close Quarter Combat, similar to judo or jujitsu."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow and grimaced at what he was hearing.

"So, what? I'm going to be learning karate chops and stuff?" He quipped. Ocelot stopped pacing after hearing that remark, causing his pupil to watch him closely with an air of concern. The Russian then whirled round and grappled with Jonathan before swiftly slamming him into the ground without making a single sound of exertion. Jonathan merely gasped as he was grappled and then exhaled a pained grunt as he felt himself collide with the floor with a dull thud. Disoriented, he blinked and rubbed his temples to help bring his senses back, allowing him to see Ocelot looking down at him with a childish smile.

"Okay." Jonathan remarked before letting his hands drop to his sides. "No karate chops. Just complete arse kickings from start to finish. Fuck, that hurt so much."

"You'll learn, given time." Ocelot stated solemnly while turning away from his incapacitated student to continue his lecture. "The key is to be fast and brutal. The whole point of this is to ensure that if you are involved with a hand to hand situation, you can strike first and last."

"So, basically win with the first blow?"

"Exactly." Ocelot replied as he reached into his duster coat and retrieved a pistol and knife. After tossing them over to Jonathan, he retrieved a second pair for himself.

"Now, the optimal set of tools for using this is to have your pistol in the dominant hand and have it supported by the weaker hand." Ocelot explained as he arranged his arms into position, pistol partially outstretched with the knife being held beneath it as a support. Jonathan observed and swiftly copied the stance.

"Okay, repeat after me." Ocelot ordered and began with a single punch by his dominant hand towards Jonathan, angling it so that the pistol would not collide with the imaginary target. He followed up with a swift hook lower down by his knife hand and then finished with a low kick to the general shin area. Jonathan watched closely before copying Ocelot.

"Be mindful of how you position your hands, if you're careless, you may end up hitting your target with your pistol or cutting them with the knife." Ocelot explained as he watched Jonathan repeat this sequence a few times. "Unless you're in a situation where you have no choice but to kill them, then do so. If you don't kill them, they'll definitely kill you."

"You're doing wonders for my confidence." Jonathan remarked sarcastically. "How will I know if I'm actually learning this stuff properly? I'm hardly going to be able to waltz up to someone in the field and ask them to hold still."

"Well, you'll have a sparring partner, obviously." Ocelot replied with a roll of his eyes, causing Jonathan to break his stance and look at his teacher in confusion.

"I'm to have a sparring partner, who may actually kick seven shades of shit out of me, while I'm pretending to be Big Boss?" Jonathan said incredulously. "Won't they be a bit suspicious of the fact that I am shit at this?"

"Not at all, I'll merely explain that your coma and bed ridden state have caused you to be a little, how you say, rusty?"

"And they'll eat that bullshit right up?"

"Considering that I and Miller are The Boss' closest associates, yes."

Jonathan tilted his head in disbelief for a moment. Ocelots confidence was mesmerising, while Jonathan still had his reservations on what he was being asked to do. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, exhaling it through his nose before looking at his trainer.

"Fair enough. We'll give it a try once I've learned a few more things." He replied. "Just don't come crying to me when this goes tits up."

Ocelot rolled his eyes before continuing Jonathan's training.

* * *

Two hours flew by as Jonathan was given his crash course in CQC, everything was repeated until he knew each sequence by heart. Ocelot was merciless in testing him on each sequence randomly. One moment, they'd be going through the motions of one sequence, suddenly, Ocelot would bark out the name of one they'd done before and Jonathan would attempt to execute it against his imaginary enemy with lightning speed. After each test, Ocelot would either shake his head and provide direction on where he'd gone wrong or sniff with veiled approval. The lack of air circulation in the gym caused the air to be incredibly hot and stuffy, causing Jonathan to bake in the uniform of the man he was impersonating. Sweat was dripping down his forehead and off his nose and his face was red with the exertion.

"Okay, quick break and then we'll bring in your partner." Ocelot suddenly stated, causing Jonathan to sigh with relief and slump to the floor.

"Yay." Jonathan sighed with subdued joy. Ocelot shook his head before heading out of the room. Jonathan wiped his forehead clear of sweat and lay on the floor, dropping the weapons he had been given. He wasn't suffering from muscle pain, merely overheating with the equipment and uniform he was wearing. Closing his eye, he let the silence of the gym envelope him as he allowed himself a brief moment to just forget about the training session he'd been subjected to. However, his moment of peace was swiftly broken by the sound of the door opening once more.

"Boss, allow me to introduce you to your sparring partner." Ocelot called out to him. Jonathan stood up to see who'd been brought to humiliate him. Stood next to Ocelot was a formidable man, black in skin colour and muscular in body tone. Approaching him, Jonathan noted how he was also taller than him. The newcomer looked down at him and presented his hand in greeting, a gesture which Jonathan accepted with a firm handshake.

"Roaring Stallion, Boss." He stated passively. "I'd like to say I'm honoured to have been picked for this, even if you're going to beat my ass."

Jonathan half-smiled, self conscious of his voice and how it would most likely be completely unlike the man he was now impersonating. Roaring Stallions expression of awe swiftly melted into one of concern and slight irritation when Jonathan didn't speak, causing Ocelot to step in.

"He gives you his thanks. However, he currently has a little difficulty speaking, so he can't thank you at this moment." Ocelot lied while gesturing towards the ring. "If we can get the pair of you into the ring, that would be lovely."

Satisfied, Stallion grunted in acknowledgement and obeyed. Jonathan grimaced at his speech impediment before following closely behind. Once the pair were in the ring, Ocelot stood on the edge outside of the boundary ropes.

"Right, the rules are simple. The pair of you are incapacitate one another. No breaking of bones or killing, understood?"

The pair nodded, causing Ocelot to clap his hands, signifying the beginning of the fight. Cautiously, the two men circled round, their respective gazes fixed on one another. Stallion was wary of being in the presence of the individual who created the combat style they were now utilising, while Jonathan was wary of the fact that he was part of a deception. The black mercenary was first to break the calm with a lunge towards Jonathan, attempting to land a punch in the upper chest region. Jonathan leaned back and to the side, causing the gigantic fist to only just miss. He then began his counter attack by lurching forward and letting his right hand clasp round the back of Stallions neck and his left hand grappled the shoulder. With a grunt of exertion, Jonathan pushed down and to the left with all his might in an attempt to send his opponent to the ground.

Sadly, his attempt failed as Stallion was merely sent staggering towards the edge of the ring, arms flailing as he fought to keep his balance. Upon reaching the ropes, he used them for support and corrected himself before whirling back round to face Jonathan once more. The Briton muttered a curse under his breath, he realised that this man was far too bulky for him to take down with such a simple grapple. Crouching back into the stance taught by Ocelot, Jonathan prepared for the next assault. Stallion was far more cautious, having had the tables turned on him and so was now being even more evasive. It became apparent that he was now on the defensive and it was now Jonathans turn to strike first and hopefully best Roaring Stallion.

"Any time this century." Ocelot remarked out loud, causing Roaring Stallion to break eye contact with Jonathan to glance over at him. Jonathan lunged forward and took the opening that Ocelot had opened up for him, his right hand jabbing forward and colliding with Stallion's throat. The giant mercenary's eyes bulged as his trachea was struck and he spluttered in surprise. Jonathan followed up with a lower punch to his opponents stomach, winding Stallion and forcing him to keel over and clutch his stomach. Finally, The Briton grappled with Stallion in the same manner as before, but put his left leg further forward as he initiated the throw down. Stallion began to stagger forward, but once his legs collided with Jonathans, he finally lost all balance and fell to the floor of the ring with a wheeze and a thump.

The corner of Ocelots mouth curled into a half-smile as he gave Jonathan a small round of applause. Jonathan bowed his head in acknowledgement of Ocelots praise before approaching Roaring Stallion and extending his hand out to help him up. Gratefully, Stallion accepted his hand and hauled himself back up.

"Damn." Roaring Stallion whispered. "That hurt, Boss."

"You got distracted." Ocelot remarked with a shrug. "Never let anything distract you when engaging an enemy. One opening like that is all they need to kill you."

"I know, I know." Stallion replied while rubbing his bruised throat to soothe it. "I just wasn't expecting something like that to happen in the ring."

Ocelot nodded in understanding before gesturing towards the door. Stallion nodded back before climbing out of the ring and leaving. Upon reaching the door, he turned towards Jonathan.

"Thanks for the match, Boss. You did good, but then that's a given." He remarked with a laugh before heading out. Jonathan nodded and waved back before looking at Ocelot with a deadpan expression.

"That was a waste of time." He grumbled. "That distraction you provided hardly made things fair for the poor sod!"

"War isn't fair." Ocelot countered. "Plus, CQC is far more potent when you strike without the enemy even being aware of it occurring. Sparring frequently and often will allow you to hone your abilities for when you can't surprise your target. Distractions in such engagements will save your skin, Hyde."take "That's another thing. Are you going to be calling me Venom Snake?" He asked curiously. "He was Roaring Stallion. You're Ocelot, so since I'm pretending to be Big Boss, I'll be called that, right?"

"Sort of. You won't take his codename, but you'll have something similar."

"Like what?"

"Tortured Snake."

Jonathan tilted his head as he mulled over what his own title was. Realising it was referencing the introduction he'd been given upon arriving on Mother Base, he rolled his eye and sighed.

"How original." He quipped and wiped his forehead clear of sweat. Ocelot sniffed dismissively before picking up a towel and tossing it over for Jonathan to wipe himself off my thoroughly.

"It'll do." Ocelot remarked. "Training's over for today. We'll be starting again early tomorrow, so make sure to get plenty of sleep."

"Just like Basic Training." Jonathan joked, causing Ocelot to chuckle at how true his observation was.

"If that's the case, then you're dismissed, Snake." He replied. Jonathan groaned and shook his head, but the smile he had showed he still got a kick out of Ocelot's own joke as he made his way back to his hospital bed.


	3. Field Trials

**Field Trials**

As the weeks passed, Jonathan slowly, but surely, improved. Regular sparring sessions with other Diamond Dogs and instruction by Ocelot had allowed him to become somewhat proficient in the art of CQC. In other areas, he had been extensively trained in the use of weapons of all categories, use of explosives and the operation of vehicles. Millers description of Jonathans progress was that of a rough gem slowly being cut into a work of art, a view which Ocelot agreed with. However, their British body double still had a long way to go before he was passable for their leader, who was still in a comatose state. However, it wasn't long before Ocelot finally decided that it was time for Jonathan to begin his job as Tortured Snake, the body double of Venom Snake.

Another bright morning beat down on Jonathans eye. He conceded that he was never going to be able to fully acclimatise to the stiflingly hot conditions of The Seychelles, but he had no choice other than to endure the conditions, no matter how irritating they became. He was in the process of rolling over to grab a few more moments rest when the door to his infirmary bedroom opened. Half opening his eye, he was greeted by the familiar sight of Ocelot, however he had not entered the room, merely popped his head over the threshold of the door.

"Grab your gear and meet me outside." Ocelot ordered before shutting the door. Jonathan blinked, he had never had an encounter with Ocelot that was so abrupt. Normally, Ocelot would be slightly polite and give the courtesy of 'how are you?' before having him train until he believed that he was sweating blood. Swiftly, Jonathan donned his uniform and its accompanying webbing. He was still blessed with the tiger-stripe uniform of the man he was impersonating and he had grown accustomed to having to train in it. Once he was ready, he made his way out of the infirmary and onto the deck of Mother Base. He hissed slightly as the morning sun greeted him with an even brighter and warmer embrace than normal, while he was busy looking round for Ocelot.

Upon noticing Ocelot and Miller beside a helicopter that was parked on a nearby landing pad, Jonathan jogged his way over and was able to catch the last of the conversation between his two employers as he approached.

"You're sure that the intelligence is good?" Ocelot enquired gravely. "If this goes wrong, we'll have wasted our time with him."

"Don't worry, Ocelot." Miller retorted in irritation. "You trained him. Are you losing faith in yourself?"

Ocelot sniffed derisively before nodding at Jonathan. He reached into his duster coat and retrieved a photograph, which he promptly passed to Jonathan. Closer examination yielded that it was a simple mug shot of a relatively young soldier, blessed with a head of brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard with a bright red beret.

"Your first assignment in the field, Snake." Ocelot explained. "The West has asked us to step into a conflict in Afghanistan. This man is a Russian soldier that you need to eliminate."

"Although, if you're able to actually Fulton him, that would be great." Miller added. Jonathan glanced at him and then back at the picture. He had been given a demonstration and quick briefing on how to utilise the Fulton recovery system and it did not look like a pleasant experience judging by how violent everything that was attached rocketed into the sky. Nodding, Jonathan then climbed into the helicopter after Ocelot gesture to it. Miller slid the door shut and then banged on the door, signalling to the pilot that it was time to go. Looking out of the window, Jonathan could see the beginning of their ascent into the air, Miller and Ocelot slowly shrinking as the transport helicopter began its journey.

"Listen carefully and listen good." Ocelot suddenly ordered through the earpiece Jonathan had worn as part of the uniform. The sudden explosion of sound made Jonathan jolt in surprise, but he quickly recovered and pressed his right index finger against the earpiece to hear Ocelot more clearly.

"Once you are in the area of operations, you are on your own. Remember what I've told you and keep your head, we're not on a time limit and there's no need to be a hero. Do what you believe is the best course of action for you. If you look towards the front of the chopper, you'll see a crate from which some weapons and essential supplies are stored. Take what you need and prepare yourself, I won't be there to hold your hand if you screw this up, Snake."

"Well, thank you." Jonathan replied sarcastically. "I almost felt like you cared about me."

"Miller and I will be in radio contact throughout this assignment. If you need advice, do not hesitate to call us."

Jonathan sighed and acknowledged his employers advice before they stopped transmitting. He then proceeded to open up the supply crate he had been provided and looked at the contents. Inside was a plethora of items, ranging from tranquilliser pistols to assault rifles and sniper rifles with plenty of their respective ammunition, along with food, water and other survival equipment. Rummaging through the contents, Jonathan settled on first partially filling up his butt pack with plenty of food, water, binoculars and first aid equipment before looking at his weapon choices. The variety of weapons he was able to choose from was staggering, however he decided that an approach that would be capable of any theoretical situation would be the best option. As such, he selected a Wu tranquilliser pistol, equipped with a suppressor, a D114 .45 caliber handgun and a MRS-4 assault rifle, a weapon incredibly similar to the semi-automatic L1A1 Self Loading Rifle that he had been trained with in the British Army. After checking over the equipment he'd picked, Jonathan sat back down and closed his eyes, allowing himself the extra sleep he was denied not so long ago by Ocelot.

* * *

Dust and sand as far as the eye could see was what Jonathan was greeted with upon arrival in Afghanistan. His transport was unable to take him too close to the target location and therefore he would have to trek the rest of the way over hilly terrain, which made him grimace as he watched the helicopter take off. Sand swept through the air as it was hurled at him by the force of the rotor blades, causing him to shield his remaining eye with his hand. Once the dust calmed down, he let his hand drop back to his side as he watched the helicopter slowly shrink to a speck on the horizon. After it had disappeared from view, he knelt down and activated his transmitter.

"Mother Base, this is Tortured Snake." He began. "Have arrived and will begin to approach the targets location, over."

Ocelots voice crackled into life through the receiver as he acknowledged the receipt of the message.

"There's no need to be so formal. We're not in the middle of a battlefield, Snake." He added. "You can talk to us as much or as little as you want, just make sure you're not caught."

"Understood. You mentioned that the target is Russian. Am I to take it that he's Russian military?"

"Spetsnaz to be precise. It is your choice whether to Fulton or assassinate him, however, as Miller mentioned, it would be preferable to bring him home alive."

"Another 'impressed' member of The Diamond Dogs?" Jonathan quipped, causing Ocelot to groan in irritation.

"Don't take any foolish risks. You have a name to uphold, remember that."

"How could I not? I've spent the last few weeks doing nothing but training to be a complete stranger. However, I am left wondering over how we are going to overcome my speech. I probably sound nothing like him."

"You don't sound at all similar, Snake. Miller and I are still considering our options regarding that issue, we know you can't stay silent forever."

"Changing the topic, what do I do if shit does hit the fan?"

"Try not to get killed."

"Oh, fantastic." Jonathan mused sarcastically as he tightened the bandana wrapped round his head in preparation for the perspiration that was beginning to form on his forehead. "Any thoughts on how I should strike against the target?"

"Depends on what you wish to do."

"Well, I'd rather not kill anyone, if possible."

"Then consider trying to find a way to isolate him. Perhaps wait for him to be in transit or alone so you can approach without too many people around."

"Or just paint the surrounding area in a colour called 'hint of brain'?" Jonathan suggested, eliciting another irritated groan from Ocelot.

"Consider your options enroute to the target, Snake."

Jonathan half smiled as he heard the static disappear, signalling that Ocelot was no longer transmitting. After adjusting the sling that was attached to his assault rifle, he began the trek to his target. Silence accompanied him along the way, he had nothing to say to or ask of Ocelot and no one was accompanying him. Jonathan was surprised that he'd been allowed to be dropped in the middle of Afghanistan without anyone to keep an eye on him. He concluded that it was most likely because if he was seen by anyone, be they Afghan or Russian, they'd capture or shoot him on sight anyway. Shaking his head with an amused chuckle, he trekked his way through the sandy hills, the sun mercilessly beating down on the back of his neck. Upon arriving at the time of the hill, he was able to see the true terrain of Afghanistan for the first time. Rolling hills and lifeless valleys came into view, a lonely, yet strangely tranquil sight for Jonathans eye. Taking a few moments to appreciate the view, Jonathans attention was brought to the sight of a dust cloud that was being whipped up by a group of soft skinned military vehicles.

Laying down to ensure he wasn't seen, Jonathan retrieved his binoculars to get a closer look. The convoy he was observing consisted of two UAZ-469 light utility vehicles, one possessed a mounted machine gun on the back, while the other was covered by a soft top, a Ural-4320 truck, also with a soft top, and a BTR-70 armoured personnel carrier. Amusingly, Jonathan noted how he suddenly wanted to try and actually attempt to destroy the convoy. He facepalmed at how reckless the idea was, yet he still had a semblance of confidence that was roaring that he was capable of succeeding.

"Nice one, Big Boss, I'm probably becoming as reckless as you are." He noted before observing the convoy pass by. Once it had disappeared, he once more pressed his receiver into his ear. "Ocelot, I just spotted a convoy of four Soviet vehicles heading south-west of my position on top of a hill that's exactly west of where I was dropped. Are they headed towards my target?"

"No, they are headed away. They are most likely headed out on patrol from the encampment that the target is currently stationed in." Ocelot replied.

"Understood, I'll head north-east, parallel to the track they were using. Talk to you later."

Jonathan grimaced as he touched his bandana to find it soaked, he'd barely been on the ground fifteen minutes and he was practically melting. Cursing his British preference for a more temperate climate, he took a swig of water before heading down the hill and trekking north-east, ensuring to use the hills as cover from the sun. This cover was slowly diminished as the sun continued its westward journey across the sky with every passing hour, however Jonathan was soon blessed with the view of the Soviet encampment his target was alleged to be inside of. After taking up a position on a hill some distance from the camp to observe, Jonathan noticed quickly that the camp seemed relatively empty. Granted, a couple of sentries and pairs of guards patrolling the interior and perimeter were present, but there was relatively little in terms of life on site. Suddenly, the grumble of Soviet engines caught Jonathans attention and he looked down to see the same convoy he'd spotted before heading towards the camp.

The vehicles rumbled their way into the camp and parked up. Their crews and passengers disembarked, some of whom were injured or dead, confirming that they were most certainly from a patrol. Scanning through the crowd, Jonathan smiled as he spotted a bright red beret adorning the passenger of the soft topped UAZ, the face that accompanied the beret was a dead ringer for the target. After observing the target inaudibly shout a few commands to his troops, he walked away into what Jonathan assumed was his command tent and living quarters in the centre of the camp.

"Ocelot." Jonathan transmitted. "Have arrived at the Soviet encampment. The convoy I mentioned before has also arrived and the target was among them."

"Understood. You'll have to sneak in and grab or kill him, Snake."

"In daylight?" Jonathan scoffed. "I'd rather do something like this at night."

"Then do so." Ocelot replied irritably. "I said you weren't on a time limit. Take as long as you need out there."

"Fine, fine." Jonathan remarked. "See you soon, I'm going to bed down somewhere shady and get some food down me. I didn't get a chance to have breakfast."

Ocelot stopped transmitting without replying, causing Jonathan to roll his eye and smile. After taking a quick look to see the sun was past its mid-point, he swiftly headed down the hill to hide from the sun and eat. The food he had taken while rummaging through the supply crate onboard the helicopter were all stored inside circular tins, each type with a label that informed the user of what was inside. Jonathan had taken one of the three types, each labelled B1, B2 and B3, due to the contents of all three being appealing to his, admittedly, picky tastes.

After cracking open a B1 ration, containing beef, pork, ham and egg paste, tuna fish, chocolate, and crackers. Jonathan realised that he had forgotten to pack any method of cooking the food. After slapping his forehead in anguish, he grimaced as he ate the chocolate and crackers first. Once they were eaten, he stared at the assorted meats. He'd tasted cold meat before during basic training in Britain and had immediately felt disgusted at how it all tasted so frightfully foul to his taste buds. Sadly, he was either going to eat some or be hungry, so begrudgingly, he took a bite out of a piece of beef. Surprisingly, while still possessing the texture of leftover meat from a British Sunday roast, it tasted quite pleasant compared to what he'd tasted in the army. Once he'd eaten the contents of the ration tin, Jonathan was satisfied and made a mental note to ask Ocelot to thank whoever made the ration on his behalf. Laying back, he decided a quiet snooze to let the sun set was in order before he began his assignment properly.

* * *

Night had embraced the land of Afghanistan with a far cooler temperature than the sun had when Jonathan finally woke up. After staying motionless, staring up at the night sky and the stars that were patterned across it to allow his faculties to return in full, Jonathan dug a hole in the sand and dumped the ration tin he'd eaten from and any refuse that had been created from it into the hole. After covering up the hole, he then ran up the hill and took out his binoculars to see how the camp had fared during his meal and nap. The moonlight allowed him a relatively unobscured view, allowing him to spot that the sentries and various patrols were still present, albeit with different soldiers comprising the security detail. Jonathan also noticed the command tent that he'd spotted his prey entering had a light source inside, allowing him to see the shadow of what he assumed was his target laying on a camp bed.

"Gotcha." Jonathan muttered to himself before pressing his earpiece. "Ocelot, have woken up and all is quiet in the camp. Beginning assignment now."

"Understood. Good luck, Snake." Ocelot replied curtly. Jonathan stowed his binoculars and ran down the hill to the plains below. He then crouched and swiftly made his approach towards the outer perimeter of the camp. Happy that the Soviet guards had not set up any searchlights or other forms of illumination, Jonathan grinned as he effortlessly padded his way through the various shrubs and expanses of flat sand that lay between him and his destination. Just as he was about to reach the outer perimeter, the silence was suddenly broken by a loud hiss and a small projectile rocketing into the sky. Jonathan looked up in surprise as it suddenly exploded into a bright light, revealing it to be an illumination flare. He threw himself to the ground and held his breath as he saw everything around him lit up in a blinding white light.

"Shit." He cursed as he watched the flare slowly float back down to earth, extinguishing itself in the process. Realising that the Soviets were using the flares as their source of battlefield illumination, Jonathan began crawling the rest of the way into the camp. Seeing that the nearest piece of cover was a small sandbag wall, Jonathan crawled over to it and breathed a silent sigh of relief at having made it this close. However, that relief was shattered upon hearing the ominous click of a weapons cocking handle being pulled back. His body tensed and he suddenly had the overwhelming urge to relieve himself of his bladders contents as his lungs seized up, too frightened to even consider breathing. The ensuing silence was then broken by a male voice speaking in Russian, a language Jonathan had not learnt. A reply was swiftly given and the jingle of a belt of ammunition being adjusted.

Jonathan's stomach turned as he listened to the incomprehensible exchange. He had unwittingly crawled right up to a machine gun nest, its occupants blissfully unaware of his presence on the other side of the sandbag wall they had set up their weapon. Trembling, Jonathan clenched his eyes shut and began muttering a silent prayer under his breath. Terrified was an understatement of how he felt as he listened to the two Russian soldiers chat, their calm, laid-back demeanour and tone providing perfect irony to the fact that they had an intruder less than a foot away from them, separated by a few sandbags. The conversation seemed to go on forever, but was cut short when one of the Russians began to walk away, the soft crunch of Afghan sand betraying his desertion of his colleague. The remaining sentry clicked his tongue and muttered another statement in his tongue before continuing his adjustments to the machine gun.

Nervous, Jonathan looked down at his hand, which had grasped his Wu tranquilliser gun for comfort. Seconds elapsed as he struggled to summon the courage to press on.

"It's one guard." Jonathan scolded himself mentally. "One shot and he'll be out like a light. Be brave, shoot, don't think."

Jonathan bit his lip and suppressed a whimper of fear. He wanted to run back to Mother Base and curl up in bed. Never had he been in such a situation and he was struggling not to just scream his lungs out in panic and cry until his eyes dried up. Sadly, he knew deep down that he would be shot and killed if he did that and he'd be killed if he came back to Mother Base empty handed. Hand grasping his pistol, Jonathan took a deep breath and exhaled quietly, his thoughts focusing on how he'd be able to get back to safety quicker if he just pressed on.

After a few more moments of contemplation, Jonathan put his free hand into the sand to prepare it to act like a jack to allow him to quickly pop over the top of the sandbags and shoot the sentry. He then bit his lip, still nervous and frightened of what he was about to attempt.

"3..." Jonathan began to count down slowly in his mind. "2..."

As soon as he thought of one. Jonathan's hand pushed into the ground, causing his arm to straighten and lift his body up so that he could now see over the top of the sandbags. Greeting his view was a Russian, bearded and battle-hardened in appearance, staring back at him in surprise. The two shared a brief second of silence before Jonathan's pistol appeared and fired. The dart flew out of the barrel and struck the sentry in the neck, causing him to grunt and then gurgle in surprise before swiftly passing out.

"Sweet dreams." Jonathan quipped before rolling his eyes at such a cheesy joke that was more reminiscent of James Bond than a legendary soldier. Holstering his pistol, Jonathan circled round the sandbags and gripped his prey's uniform before dragging him over to a tent nearby. After peaking through the fabric, he could see that no one was inside and it was a soldiers accommodation, a stroke of luck that caused him to smile. He dragged the unconscious sentry into the tent and laid him onto the camp bed, if his fellow soldiers found him, they'd think he was just being lazy Jonathan reasoned as he removed the dart from his victims neck and buried it in the sand outside of the tent.

After checking no one was around or in a position to become aware of his presence, Jonathan padded his way through the rows of tents. Some were silent, others had chattering Russians or the soft breathing and loud snoring of soldiers who were getting their rest. Jonathan smiled as it reminded him of how he had been engaged in similar situations during training exercises in the British Army, camping out in the wilderness of Britain with the cold and rain making him miserable. Regardless of how he hated it at the time, he looked back on those memories fondly as he looked up to see the telltale sign of an aerial, the perfect visual aid to find the command tent. Once he'd spotted it, he sneaked his way to it, taking care not to attract the attention of the individuals who were still awake inside their tents.

Upon arrival, he noticed that the inside was illuminated, which allowed him to see the shadow of a person laying upon a camp bed. His lips curled into a devilish smile as he parted the fabric that kept the interior private from the outside and took aim at his targets neck. A small thud later as his tranquiliser fired and the dart delivered its drug. Breathing a sigh of relief, Jonathan entered the tent and extinguished the light to prevent his shadow from being projected onto the sides of the tent and checked the pulse of his victim. Once he was certain that his prey was fine, his moment of pride due to making it so far into his assignment vanished as it transformed in uncertainty and then terror. He was in the middle of a Russian Army camp with an unconscious officer and no way of getting his lifeless body out without being caught.

Frightened, Jonathan scrambled under the bed and pressed his earpiece.

"Ocelot, this is Snake. I've got the target, but I'm stuck in the middle of the camp!" He hissed urgently.

"Do they know you're there?"

"What... No, you fool!" He cursed quietly in disbelief. "I'd be dead, but how the hell do I get out of here!? I can't just waltz past the guards with their commanders lifeless body!"

"Who said you needed to be quiet getting out?" Ocelot rebutted passively. "You've got the target, now get out and we'll pick you up."

"Easier said than done, Ocelot! What do you expect me to do!?"

"Think of something." Ocelot replied bluntly before the connection went dead. Jonathan lay there, thunderstruck at how Ocelot could be so calm while he was desperate to just vacate everything from his bladder and bowels while screaming his lungs out. Grinding his teeth together, Jonathan slammed his fist into the sand as he released a pained squeal of terror. He wanted to go back to Mother Base, to safety. Sadly, he was miles away and he didn't have a choice anymore. His chance to pull out was when he woke up a good distance from his current location, not now. After giving the sand a few angry punches to calm his nerves, Jonathan took a deep breath and exhaled.

"Okay, so I need to get out of here. I don't need to be quiet about it, I just need to beat a hasty exit." He thought as he considered how he was to achieve an exit on foot. Suddenly, his train of thought drifted to when he identified the target that day. He remembered that his prey had arrived in a UAZ utility vehicle, causing his eyes to shine and his lips to curl into a smile. Jonathan crawled out from under the bed and parted the fabric door to the tent. Just outside of the tent was the vehicle he had seen, ready to be taken. Jonathan huffed in excitement as he rushed over to the Russian commander and gripped his uniforms shoulders, allowing him to drag the soldier out of the tent and towards the UAZ. After dumping him roughly into the passenger seat, Jonathan climbed into the drivers seat and looked at the ignition key slot. Luckily, the key was still there, clearly the Russians didn't expect anyone to steal their property in a location as remote as this.

Jonathan gripped the key, but then hesitated. As soon as he turned this key, he'd have to be quick, otherwise everyone would be wondering why one of the vehicles if being driven at this hour. Jonathan leaned forward and hit his head against the edge of the steering wheel, summoning forth all his courage and nerve to begin this task. His hand trembled as he realised how risky that this was going to be and that, if it failed, he'd be killed without hesitation for trying to kidnap the camps commander. After taking a few long, deep breaths, Jonathan looked up and then turned the key.

The engine roared into life, causing Jonathans heart to leap in fright at the loud sound that destroyed the silence that had fallen across the landscape. His head swivelled to look round as he saw the shadows of soldiers inside their tents turn or look up towards him. There was no doubt that they were curious about what had just happened.

"Time to go!" Jonathan told his unconscious passenger before throwing the UAZ into first gear and slamming his foot down onto the accelerator. The UAZ grumbled loudly as it began to accelerate forwards. Turning towards the track that led towards the front gate, Jonathan took the time to change to second gear as the sounds of Russians yelling in their native tongue began to accompany the engines rumbles. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he roared towards the gate, its three sentries standing in the way of freedom. The trio put their hands up in an attempt to make the vehicle stop, but Jonathan ignored them. Crying out in panic, the three Russians dove out of the path of the oncoming UAZ as it smashed through the gate and flew down the track that led away from the camp.

Jonathan let out a crazed laugh of disbelief as amazement overcame him at how easy it had been to escape. His joy was suddenly cut off by the sound of gunfire, followed by the shattered of glass and a sharp pain shot through his right shoulder. Crying out in pain, Jonathans right hand slumped to his side while his left hand struggled to keep the UAZ on course. His gaze left the road to look down at shoulder, but the darkness prevented him from seeing anything. Jonathan whimpered in agony as he weakly gripped the steering wheel with his useless right hand and then touched his shoulder with his left. He immediately became aware of his shoulder being incredibly wet and there was a small round hole in his uniform.

Jonathans eyes widened as he realised that he'd been shot. His left hand reached up to his earpiece and pressed it.

"Ocelot!" He cried out. "I've been shot! I'm hit!"

"What!?" Ocelot shouted in surprise. "Are you alright?!"

"Of course I'm fucking not! I've been shot in the shoulder!" Jonathan cried as tears rolled down his cheeks. "It fucking hurts and it's bleeding!"

"Are you outside of the camp?"

"YES!" Jonathan roared back. "I'm out of the... Fuck, this hurts so much!"

He then yelped in terror as he looked at the road and saw that he was going off course, his left hand dropped from his ear and gripped the steering wheel to regain control of the UAZ.

"Just hold on!" Ocelot said faintly, his voice now muffled due to the earpiece not being pressed into Jonathans ear for better clarity. "Evac is on the way."

Jonathan moaned in agony, his cheeks damp with his tears as he stared at the dark road ahead of him. He was struggling to keep focus on driving due to the unimaginable pain wracking his brain. Whimpering, Jonathan let go of the steering wheel to change up to third gear, but as he finished, he noticed that he was veering off course again. Turning the wheel sharply, the UAZ's tires screamed in discomfort as it lurched to the side, its right wheels lifting off the ground due to the ferocity of the turn. Panicking, Jonathan then turned in the opposite direction to compensate, but was rewarded with an even more violent tilt that threatened to overturn the vehicle. Shaking his head in fright, Jonathan began turning the wheel left and right wildly, desperate to correct the vehicle, but unable to formulate a coherent plan to do so due to the pain from his bullet wound.

The UAZ responded in kind as it veered all over the road, mirroring the confusion of its driver. Jonathan suddenly cried out as a massive surge of pain shot through his shoulder, causing him to instinctively turn the wheel once again violently. The UAZ squealed as it suddenly tilted, Jonathan tried to correct it again, but soon noticed that it was too late. His view began to turn as his transport began to overturn.

"Oh fu-" He grimaced, but was cut off as the vehicle rolled over, rendering him unconscious.


	4. Man's Best Friends

**Man's Best Friends**

"Jonathan."

Weary and battered, Jonathan was vaguely aware of someone calling his name in a manner that he saw in movies. The titular hero is thought to be dead, but then the camera fades to white as a whispered name slowly becomes louder until they regain consciousness. Groaning, Jonathan let his eye open weakly. His retina was greeted with the familiar sight of Mother Bases infirmary ceiling. He was once more in his bed.

"Have a nice sleep?" A voice that Jonathan recognised as Ocelots emanated from his bedside.

"Bliss." Jonathan quipped with a smirk. "Come back later."

Ocelot threw his head back and laughed as he remembered Jonathan saying similar words when he'd been torturing him.

"Ha! Still British. How are you feeling though?"

Jonathan sat himself up with the support of his left hand, after noticing that his right arm had been put into a sling and his shoulder area was covered in bandages.

"My shoulder feels stiff and tender, kind of aching." He remarked thoughtfully. "What happened? I remember driving along and then... The UAZ tipped."

"Pequod, the helicopter pilot, saw the crash site. The headlights were still on so he saw you easily from the sky." Ocelot explained. "After dragging you and the target out of the wreckage, he took you home."

"Hmph... Home." Jonathan murmured. He'd grown used to being on Mother Base, but did he consider it to be his home? "How is the target anyway?"

"Fine, bumped and bruised, bit of concussion, but he's up and about now. He's actually taken to being on Mother Base quite well, goes by the code name: Silent Mastodon."

Jonathan sniffed and rubbed his beard softly before looking at his side table. Noticing that a glass of water was on it, he swiftly grabbed it and drained the glass down his throat.

"So, how long have I been out then?" He finally asked. "Sounds like I've been out for a while."

Ocelot nodded before explaining that he'd been unconscious for three days, most of it due to being sedated. Jonathan rolled his eyes at this revelation and sighed heavily.

"Are you sure I'm good for this job?" He asked wearily. "I seem to be getting hurt quite often for a legendary soldier."

"It comes with the job. You've just got to learn not to get shot, that's all."

Jonathan scoffed at the ridiculous advice and shook his head. He then grabbed the bedsheet covering him and lifted it to get out of bed.

"Going somewhere?" Ocelot asked with a raised eyebrow. Jonathan responded with a nod and began walking towards the door.

"I'm hungry. I know where the mess hall is and I want to eat."

Ocelots eyes widened at what Jonathan intended to do. He stood up and put his hand on the body doubles uninjured shoulder, causing Jonathan to stop.

"Are you sure you want to?" Ocelot enquired. "You don't sound like the Boss, so you'd not be able to chat."

"I don't need to though, do I?" Jonathan rebutted. "After all, I was in that hospital with a broken arm. This is no different, plus this is what he'd do. right? Stick with the rest of the squaddies, even when injured, right?"

Ocelot paused before letting his hand go. Jonathan nodded and then opened the door that led onto the deck of Mother Base. He winced as his bare feet touched the heated metal floor, the sun having baked it with its rays. Once he'd acclimatised, the journey across the deck continued after he'd taken a deep breath of the sea air. Ocelot followed closely behind to keep a watchful eye over him. Jonathan pushed the mess hall door open, inside was a number of Mother Bases occupants, but due to it not being an allotted meal time, the entire crew weren't there. However, they were quick to notice his presence and a lot of them saluted immediately, the rest following suit once they noticed their colleagues had done so. Jonathan saluted back with his left hand and walked over to the serving area, his feet echoing the soft patter of skin slapping against metal.

"Are you open?" Jonathan grumbled in an attempt to sound like he'd lost his voice to avert suspicion. The staff member on the other side of the serving counter nodded his head.

"Always for you, Boss." He replied and began lifting the lids off the serving dishes to reveal his wares. Jonathan looked over what was there and then pointed at what he'd like to have, the server swiftly piled food onto the plate for him. Once Jonathan had finished pointing out his choices, the server placed some cutlery on the plate and then passed it to him.

"Thank you." Jonathan rumbled appreciatively. "It looks good."

"It's leftovers from breakfast, but thank you, Boss." He replied before leaving his post to carry some dirty plates away to be cleaned. Jonathan sat down and began to eat, Ocelot soon sat beside him.

"We need to find a way to deal with your speech." He whispered quietly. "We can't have the men enduring me or Miller as your mouthpiece forever."

"Well," Jonathan replied through a mouthful of sausage and hash brown. "What do you suggest? Transplant my voice-box or something?"

"Not really." Ocelot replied gravely. "But I do have an idea that may help or at least try to."

"And what would that be?"

"Some kind of vocal therapy."

"Therapy?"

Ocelot nodded and then produced a tape from his duster coat.

"This may not work, but if you were to listen to a recording of the Boss' voice for an extended period of time you'd at the very least know how to imitate it with practice."

"And at the most?"

"We brainwash you into changing your voice."

Jonathan shook his head and breathed a laugh. The idea sounded completely ludicrous, but he didn't really have a choice in the matter anyway.

"Fine, it can't hurt, can it?" Jonathan stated with a hint of incredulity as he pushed the tape closer towards him. Ocelot grunted and rubbed the bridge of his nose before standing up to leave.

"Well, I'd better get going. You alright with heading back to your room after your meal, Snake?"

Jonathan merely nodded in response, causing Ocelot to take his leave. Once he'd gone, Jonathan sighed and focused on finishing his meal.

* * *

The sound of Big Boss reverberated off the walls of Jonathan's infirmary room. He'd been lying in bed with a small tape recorder, rewinding, listening and then imitating the voice of the man he was impersonating for an hour. However, he was completely unsure of whether he was actually succeeding in his attempts. Tired and his vocal cords a little sore, he put the tape recorder down on his side table and closed his eyes, providing his throat with much needed respite. The break didn't last for long as he heard the door to his room open. Jonathan looked up to see who was visiting and was surprised to find Miller standing in the door way. After a silent moment between the two, Jonathan sat up in bed and then attempted to imitate Big Boss' voice.

"Miller, how good to see you." Jonathan greeted with a gravelly tone. Millers expression deteriorated into a scowl, causing Jonathan to cringe.

"Sounds shit, doesn't it?" He remarked in his normal voice. "Sorry about that, Ocelot said I should try and I am doing just that."

"Good luck with that." Miller scoffed. "I heard about your little jaunt to the mess hall."

"Do you have a problem with that, daddy?" Jonathan teased with a playful grin. Miller approached him quietly and then gripped his wounded shoulder, causing Jonathan to wince and yelp in pain.

"Don't take the piss." He growled angrily. "I'm not your friend and I don't give a damn if you die in the field, you're not the Boss, nor will you ever be."

Jonathan gritted his teeth before thrusting his free hand forward to push Miller away. With a surprised wheeze, Miller staggered back, releasing his grip on Jonathan's shoulder.

"Christ, have some mercy, you've already taken my eye." Jonathan groaned. "Are you always this angry?"

Miller stared silently at him before leaving without a reply. Jonathan huffed in frustration and muttered a few curses under his breath before laying back down. His arm ached more than ever as a result of Miller and he breathed a deep sigh to try and dull the pain. However, he was disturbed by the sound of his door opening once more.

"For fucks sake, Miller, if you're going to kill me, do it quickly!" Jonathan spat before noticing that his visitor was Ocelot. "Urgh... Sorry, Ocelot. You probably met Miller on the way here."

"I did. Still bothering you?

"Just a bit, bastard thought it was nice to hurt my shoulder."

Ocelot shook his head and sighed.

"He's still angry about the Boss. He's not woken up yet and Miller still thinks you're to blame."

Jonathan shook his head and looked over at the tape recorder.

"How's the vocal work been?" Ocelot asked, causing Jonathan to look at him and try again with his imitation.

"Fine, Ocelot, my voice seems to be recovering nicely."

Ocelot stared at Jonathan passively before shaking his head. Jonathan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Well, ain't that just great. Need to work on it more?"

"Mhm, keep practicing and you'll improve."

"Is that all you wished to see me about?" Jonathan inquired with a tilted head and raised eyebrow. "I get the feeling there's something more."

Ocelot fell silent and looked away for a moment in thought, after rubbing his nose and sniffing he looked back at Jonathan and nodded before retrieving a handful of pictures from his coat. After Jonathan was given them, he looked at them closely. The photos were blurry, extreme long shots of groups of people wearing what Jonathan could only describe as sci-fi armour and uniforms.

"What you see here is the only photographs we have of a unit called The Skulls." Ocelot explained. "They're a special forces unit that we first encountered around a month ago while you and the Boss were out cold. They are the ones that left Miller without an arm."

"And I'm guessing that I'm going to have to keep an eye out?" Jonathan remarked. "Since I'm now with the special job of being a comatose man's bullet sponge."

Ocelot nodded and tapped the photos.

"That's not all. Miller was out in the field with a rather sizeable unit and was attacked by these people. They slaughtered everyone except him in minutes. He said that they were something completely different. The Skulls can do things that no person can do."

Jonathan looked at Ocelot with a displeased expression and huffed in exasperation.

"So what... I'm to act as a bullet sponge for super-soldiers now?" Jonathan spat. "You have a talent for making this job very attractive to sane people, Ocelot."

Ocelot chuckled and shook his head.

"Yes, you would be right. However..." He stated gravely. "There's one in particular that you need to be wary of, known as Quiet."

"Quiet..." Jonathan repeated. "What do we know about them?"

"Nothing."

Jonathan deadpanned at Ocelot. He was only now being informed that he was to be wary of not only a band of super-soldiers, but one in particular was most likely going to be hunting him down. After exhaling a deep breath in exasperation, he waved his uninjured hand dramatically.

"Anything else you'd like to tell me, Ocelot?" He exclaimed sarcastically. "Maybe I'm going to be arrested by the CIA for being the unknown lovechild of Hitler and Eva Braun? Perhaps I'm the man on the grassy knoll that shot President Kennedy too?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Ocelot scolded. "You'll be fine if you keep your head and don't get shot."

"Easier said than done." Jonathan replied acidly before looking over the photos once more. Questions filled his head regarding The Skulls, who were they? What could they do? How would he recognise them? How would he fight them? These were questions he had no answers for and he assumed Ocelot didn't know either. Sighing in resignation, he passed the photos back and lay back down.

"So, when I'm finished recuperating, training will continue?"

Ocelot nodded and stood up.

"Indeed, but first, you focus on recovering. Bullet wounds take time to heal, Snake."

Jonathan huffed in agreement and rolled over onto his side to rest. Ocelot watched him momentarily before leaving without a word.

* * *

The recovery process slipped by slowly, but once Jonathan had recuperated enough he was thrown straight back into his training regime. Vocal, physical and weapons lessons were hammered into him mercilessly as Ocelot continued to mould him into the body double he had been coerced into being. His vocal work had improved, but he was still unable to fool Ocelot and Miller, however he reasoned that since they knew that he was a fake, he'd never be able to anyway. Meanwhile, his physical lessons were the most taxing as he continued the crash course in CQC by his mentor. Practice sessions in full uniform followed by sparring matches with randomly selected opponents were the order of the day and Jonathan took it in his stride. Some sparring matches he would best his opponent with ease, while others ended in long slugging matches, stalemates and, on the rare occasion, defeat.

However, a few weeks after his gunshot wound was inflicted on him, Ocelot didn't begin the usual CQC drills. After Jonathan emerged from the infirmary, he was surprised to see Ocelot sat astride a brown horse with another pure white one beside him without an occupant in the saddle.

"I thought you deserved a change, Snake." Ocelot called out to him. "Come, let's see if you've lost your touch in the saddle."

Jonathan looked at the horse in confusion. He'd never rode a horse before and now he was going to learn. Never in his mind did he consider that he'd ever need to learn anything equestrian related. He never intended to join the cavalry in The British Army and he thought that horse riding outside the military was for jockeys and females. That misconception had been completely shattered by this revelation. Nervously, he approached Ocelot, being careful to imitate Big Boss' voice in the event that anyone was within earshot.

"We keep horses here?" He asked in amazement as he stood beside the white steed. His hand reached out and softly patted the well groomed cheek of the horse, earning him a soft exhale from the horses nose followed by him nuzzling Jonathan's face.

"I do believe you've made a good impression." Ocelot remarked. "What he's doing is called by most equestrians as 'The Blow' used for greeting, showing affection, many things. It all depends on the context."

Jonathan's heart raced as he continued to pat and stroke the horse, his hand wandering from its cheek to its mane and neck.

"And you want me to get into the saddle?" He enquired, causing Ocelot to nod and gesture towards the stirrups.

"You might struggle at first, but you'll have to learn to climb into the saddle without any assistance. You can't carry a stepladder with you every time you take him with you."

"Excuse me?" Jonathan asked in alarm. "You mean... Take this horse... Out? Into the field? What if he gets shot!?"

"Then it's your job to make sure D-Horse doesn't get shot, isn't it?"

Jonathan huffed in exasperation and frowned as he softly scratched the horses ears, causing it to nicker appreciatively. Once he had finished fussing, Jonathan positioned himself by the saddle and grasped the sides. After mentally counting to three, he put his left foot into the stirrup and hoisted himself up onto the saddle, swinging his leg over to allow it to place the other foot into the remaining stirrup. Exhaling, Jonathan positioned himself more comfortably and picked up the reins.

"Okay, so now what?" He asked Ocelot curiously. His Russian mentor clucked his tongue, causing his steed to begin walking away. Jonathan quickly imitated the same sound and his steed obediently began to walk too. Pulling on the reins, Jonathan began to manoeuvre D-Horse in an attempt to follow Ocelot.

"If you want to catch up, just cluck again or rock forward in the saddle." Ocelot called back to Jonathan. Nodding in understanding, Jonathan clicked his tongue again and rocked forward. D-Horse responded with a snort and began to trot. Jonathan grunted as the trotting began to cause discomfort across his groin and buttocks. After a few moments of thought, he stood up slightly with the assistance of his stirrups to alleviate the discomfort from being bounced about in the saddle. Eventually, he drew alongside Ocelot and pulled on the reins, a gesture he assumed correctly was the cue to slow down to a walk.

"Hello." Jonathan greeted. "Lovely weather we're having."

"You'll never change." Ocelot remarked with a roll of his eyes. "How was the trotting?"

"Quite awful, but I devised a way to not feel like I'm being bounced around."

"Good. You'll be learning how to look after D-Horse along with your other practice sessions. I'm sure you'll appreciate being able to ride a horse out in the field, after all, you can't have vehicles all the time."

"I guess." Jonathan replied and looked out to sea. He'd never actually thought to do so while he'd been on Mother Base, but now he could truly appreciate the view. As far as the eye could see it was clear sky and deep blue sea with no land between them.

"It's a wonderful view." He remarked, causing Ocelot to look out to sea as well. After a few moments of thought, Ocelot replied with a nod before looking forward again.

"One of the perks of being here." Ocelot stated passively. "I'm sure a lot of people would give anything for a view like that."

Jonathan merely hummed back in the affirmative as he continued to marvel at the sight.

* * *

A week passed swiftly and it was soon time for Jonathan to embark on another assignment. His briefing was a very simple one, he was to be dropped near a location named Da Smasei Laman to retrieve a weapon code-named "Honey Bee". Ocelot explained that they had been able to find out the location of the weapon from a Hamid fighter that a Diamond Dog team had found while scouting a Soviet outpost in the vicinity.

Sat within the confines of the transport helicopter, Jonathan mulled over what he could be up against. Images formulated of how he'd be forced to battle against tanks and jets single-handed and he'd be left as an unidentifiable smudge on the landscape after they'd unleashed unreasonable amounts of firepower to destroy him. His thoughts were soon cut short when a sudden jolt signalled to him that they had landed. After nodding a farewell to Pequod, the pilot, he hopped out of the helicopter and jogged a few paces away to let it take off.

"Farewell, sweet prince." He joked to himself as he witnessed his transport fly away into the distance. Once it had become a mere speck on the horizon, he retrieved a map of the area he'd been dropped in and began to ascertain his bearings and formulate a route to the target area. His expression melted into a frown as he realised that he'd been dropped several kilometres from Smasei. Huffing in exasperation, he pressed his earpiece to contact Mother Base.

"Ocelot!" He grumbled. "Pequod dropped me off in the middle of nowhere! I'm miles away from the target!"

"We were unable to find anywhere that was closer for you to be dropped, Snake." Ocelot countered passively. "Unless you'd like to have yourself shot down by anti-aircraft fire?"

"No, that doesn't sound too appealing, but how am I to get there? It'll take days to walk!"

"Then requisition transport. Pequod isn't there for ferrying you and you alone."

"Oh, I'm so flattered to have my own personal helicopter pilot." Jonathan snarked. "Perhaps I'll get myself a personal masseuse too?"

"Cut the crap, Snake." Ocelot scolded. "You've got work to do. The back of your map has Pequod's frequency. You can contact him with that and get some transport."

The connection suddenly cut out. Guessing that Ocelot wasn't happy with Jonathan's attitude, he shook his head in resignation and turned the map over to look at the frequency. Once he'd keyed it into his radio, he pressed his earpiece once more.

"Pequod, this is Snake. Do you read me? Over."

After a few moments of silence, a burst of noise that sounded like the rotor blades of a helicopter thundered into Jonathan's ear, followed by a voice.

"Snake, this is Pequod. Reading you loud and clear. Over."

"Good. I need some transport to get me to the target. What do you have for me?"

"We have an APE T-41LV utility vehicle or D-Horse ready to be dispatched to your location, Boss."

Jonathan paused. The decision was much more complex than he'd first thought. On the one hand, he could have Diamond Horse, a quiet steed that was far more capable in rough terrain than a vehicle. On the other hand, he could take the APE and be able to thunder down the roads at speeds that the horse could never achieve, but at the risk of encountering hostile forces on the road. Sighing deeply, he requested the assistance of Diamond Horse. He felt uneasy due to the fact that it meant that the horse he'd been caring for could be put into considerable danger, however, as Ocelot stated, it was his responsibility to avoid putting his steed in danger.

It wasn't long before the pure white horse was dropped off beside him. Gently, Jonathan began to softly pet D-Horse's muzzle to comfort him after the trip he had been subjected to to reach the area of operations. When the horse replied by performing a quiet nicker, Jonathan chuckled and gave it a caring scratch behind the ears before reaching into his webbing to retrieve his B1 ration pack. Cracking it open, Jonathan pored over the contents to see if there was anything that could be given to his steed as a quiet treat. Sadly, the contents was mostly meat and therefore inappropriate to feed a horse. Noticing that there was a few crackers hidden amongst the contents, he took them out and poured a little bit of water from his canteen to moisten them before holding them out for D-Horse to investigate.

Slowly, D-Horse stretched his neck out to give the crackers a tentative sniff, followed by an experimental nibble. After realising that they weren't bad, he happily began to greedily lap them up, causing Jonathan to chuckle.

"There's a good horse." He murmured. "When we get back home, I'll get you a proper treat instead of wet crackers."

Once the crackers were gone, Jonathan gave D-Horse another quick fuss before hoisting himself into the saddle. Making himself comfortable, Jonathan clucked his tongue to begin the ride to the target.

The hours drifted by as the duo rode across the baked landscape. The heat was unbearable for Jonathan, but his mind was fixed firmly on his steed's welfare. If he was finding the weather insufferable and the constant thirst annoying, how horrible must it be for the horse carrying him? Jonathan ensured that he stopped frequently to give the equine a drink, even if it meant giving the horse some of the water in his canteen, a limited source that was just as important to him.

As the sun set, the temperature began to cool and the blue sky began to take on various shades of orange and pink, which blended together to form even more radiant colours. However, Jonathan was unable to spare a moment to marvel at the view. His attention was drawn by a peculiar sound he could hear some distance away, pulling on the reins to halt his steed, he sat and waited to see if the sound would be repeated. Moments later, a low, pitiful whine rolled across the sand dunes. Curious and wary, Jonathan urged his mount to began approaching the source of the noise. After circling round one of the many sand dunes, the pair were graced with a heart-wrenching sight.

Laying motionless in the sand was what appeared to be a dog, so small that it must have been a puppy and it showed severe signs of neglect and malnutrition. Its tongue, lolling from its mouth, was not glistening with moisture and his ribs were accentuated to the point that it made Jonathan shiver at how unnatural the animal looked. Certain that the canine was in no state to be violent, Jonathan dismounted and took the few steps needed to kneel next to it for closer inspection. The reaction he got was a terrified whimper, followed by a low, drawn out howl, whether it was for mercy or for help, Jonathan could not tell. However, he couldn't bring himself to leave the creature to a painful and drawn out death.

Tenderly, he reached out and touched its cheek, soliciting another whimper as the dog flinched. Laying down to try and communicate that he was not a threat, Jonathan softly stroked its neck.

"It's okay," He murmured. "I won't hurt you. I'm here to help."

After a brief attempt at growling, the animal ceased its attempt to defend itself. Whether it was too weak to continue or realised it wasn't in danger was meaningless. What mattered was providing some care to it.

Delving into his rations, Jonathan retrieved some beef and presented it. After a cautious sniff, the canine began to nibble on the food. Jonathan smiled, if the animal could still eat, then it can survive. Swiftly, he opened his canteen, but hesitated once he realised he had no obvious container to pour the water into. Hissing in frustration, Jonathan unbuckled his webbing on took it off to rummage through the contents that he'd packed for the assignment in search of any form of container. Several minutes of head-scratching and muttering curses passed before Jonathan tipped out the contents of his ration pack and used that as the container he desired. The canine gave a soft whine as it tentatively lapped at the water, Jonathan softly petting its head and ears to relax it further.

Suddenly, Jonathan realised that what he was doing was foolish. Even though he'd provided what was probably the first sign of affection, food and water to this creature in days, it probably wasn't going to help in the long run. The poor creature would still be doomed to a miserable fight for survival that would inevitably cause it a painful death in the desert. Clenching a fist that wasn't busy petting the defenceless animal, Jonathan cursed the decision he was about to make.

"Hold still, little guy." He soothed as he retrieved one of the two Fulton recovery kits that he'd been equipped with. The canine flinched and whimpered, unsure of why Jonathan was now slipping a harness over its body. Jonathan shushed the creature and gave it another fuss and stroke to try and alleviate some of the stress that was being experienced.

"This is probably going to be a bit terrifying for you, but I promise that you'll be safe and sound very soon." He whispered before tapping the activation button for the Fulton. Leaning back, he watched as the back of the harness released a balloon that swiftly inflated and sent the frightened canine into the sky. Jonathan stared at the ever shrinking shape until it completely vanished from view. Now, he would have to wait until it was brought back to Mother Base. Sighing, he glanced over at his steed, who was amusing himself with nibbling on a tuft of grass that had managed to grow.

"Come on." He said as he patted the stallions neck. "We've still got a job to do."

Quickly mounting his steed once more, the pair continued their journey. Night had already fallen before they encountered a sudden end to the landscape as it plunged vertically down the side of a cliff. Looking down, the pair were blessed with the sight of a small encampment, illuminated by temporary flood lights and moonlight, outside of an Afghan fort that had been carved into the cliff Jonathan and his steed were stood on top of. Dismounting, Jonathan tapped his earpiece to grab Ocelot's attention.

"Ocelot, this is Snake." Jonathan whispered quietly as his free hand retrieved his binoculars for a better look at the encampment. "I'm looking down at an encampment outside Smasei. The raised flag shows that there's Russians here, didn't you say that this was an American weapon?"

"I did, but it seems that the Russians want it too. This doesn't change anything, retrieve the Honey Bee and bring it back."

"Easier said than done." Jonathan remarked. "I'm hundreds of feet above them and I can see a lot of nasty looking people down there... With guns."

"Nothing you've not experienced before." Ocelot countered. "Climb down and get what you came for."

"Yes, Mother." Jonathan quipped before cutting the connection. Taking a deep sigh, he gave another quick scan with his binoculars over the scene below him. The encampment itself was bare bones at best, a number of tarpaulins stretched over large poles for keeping crates of supplies in the shade and tents for the men to sleep in. Relief washed over Jonathan as he noticed that there were no heavy weapons present, such as armoured vehicles or machine gun emplacements. Satisfied that he knew what was waiting for him, Jonathan stowed his binoculars before standing up to look at D-Horse.

"This is where you and I part ways." He said quietly while petting the equine. "You might get hurt if you stay here and I couldn't live with myself if you got hurt."

After a brief moment of silence to pet his companion, Jonathan reached for the back of the saddle and pressed the button that activated D-Horses own Fulton recovery system. Waving goodbye, Jonathan watched as the loyal stallion rocketed into the sky.

"Lucky bastard." He murmured before looking back down at the camp.

Knowing that anchoring a rope anywhere along the cliff wouldn't be capable of reaching the ground below, Jonathan settled on a better approach. The fort itself had been carved into the cliff, which included a number of openings that acted as windows. A few of these were near the top of cliff and would be well within reach of the rope that he possessed. After walking along the edge of the cliff to find a suitable anchor point, he tied his rope around a suitable rock and climbed down towards an opening that was mere metres away from his position.

Greeting him was total darkness, the interior of the fort was clearly inhabited by the Soviets due to the lack of lighting inside. Retrieving his flashlight, Jonathan began to let the beam of light illuminate the room around him, piece by piece. Completely bare, except for a doorway that had stairs leading down, Jonathan shrugged before heading deeper into the fort. His stomach churned with unease as he navigated the labyrinth of tunnels and rooms. Most of the rooms he encountered were completely bare, evidence of the dereliction of this location that had been carved, room by room, from solid stone, but Jonathan was eventually able to find stairs that allowed him to continue his descent to the ground floor that possessed the exit and the route to the encampment.


	5. The Mist

**The Mist**

The night had completely shrouded the landscape in total darkness, the stars and moon had been shrouded in an ever-thickening mist that was even beginning to frustrate the efforts of the floodlights that the Soviet troops had set up. Watching them from the entrance of the fort they were camped outside of, Jonathan grasped the slide of his Wu tranquilliser pistol and cocked it. His search for the exit through the fort had allowed him the chance to see if they had stashed the Honey Bee inside. No trace had been discovered, leading him to conclude that it must be in the camp itself.

Noticing that there was little cover once he stepped outside of the fort, Jonathan reasoned that he'd have to make a run for it towards the patches of long grass that were growing by the sides of the steps that he'd have to use on his way towards the camp. Much to his delight, the floodlights weren't directed towards the fort, which provided much needed darkness to equalise the disadvantage of non-existent cover. Realising that the Soviets were more interested in keeping their bearings in the mist that had arrived, they had begun to group up in the centre of the camp.

"Good boys," Jonathan praised quietly. "Abandon your posts, it'll make my life a heck of a lot easier."

Swiftly, he ran out of the fort and down the stairs to the safety of the tall grass. Upon arrival, he threw himself into the foliage, landing with a dull thud and a soft grunt of pain as Jonathan immediately regretted being so eager to conceal himself. After a brief moment to let the pain ease, he parted the grass to observe the soldiers and determine whether they'd noticed his painful dive. Seeing that they were talking amongst each other, he breathed a sigh of relief and turned his attention towards the tarpaulins with dozens of supply crates. Realising that he wasn't aware of what he was meant to be looking for, his hand reached for his earpiece and tapped it.

"Ocelot, this is Snake." He whispered while watching the soldiers. "I'm in the camp, but I don't know what I'm looking for. Do we know anything about what this Honey Bee looks like?"

"We do." Ocelot replied. "The Hamid fighter said that they'd yet to use the weapon, so it should still be in the case that it arrived in. Look for a case with American markings, that should be what you're looking for."

After thanking Ocelot, Jonathan cut the connection and began to crawl through the grass towards the tarpaulins. Since the Soviets were keeping their supplies there, it would be the most logical place to keep the Honey Bee there too, Jonathan reasoned. The fact that Russians used a completely different alphabet would work in his favour also, since Jonathan could understand English, but Cyrillic was completely unreadable in his eyes. Upon arriving at the supply dump, Jonathan hid behind the crates and took a moment to take a deep breath. The extreme concentration and nerve-wracking tension weighing down on him was making him forget to breathe.

"Deep breaths." He told himself while looking at the crates he was next to. His view glanced over the mass of Cyrillic scrawled on the boxes, desperately searching for a trace of English. Noticing that there was none, he clenched his fist in frustration. He would have to check the other crates on the other side of the dump in full view of the Soviet guards. Hesitantly, Jonathan peeked out from his hiding place to ascertain whether the Soviets were still huddling around the floodlights. His remaining eye widened at the sudden lack of soldiers in sight. The myriad of floodlights showed no sign of life around them.

Warily, Jonathan readied his pistol and slowly approached one of the floodlights he knew had a group of Soviets near it before their disappearance. Seconds passed as he stepped closer, his heart rate climbing rapidly as he expected the sentries to suddenly pounce on him with a hail of gunfire. Surprisingly, no such event occurred, the area was completely devoid of life, except for Jonathan. He glanced around in a mixture of suspicion and panic. It was unthinkable that the Soviets would abandon their camp in this thick mist, yet it was apparent that the only human present was himself.

Jonathan backed away from the floodlights to resume his examination of the supply dump. Glancing across the crates he'd not yet examined, he suddenly happened upon a long carry case marked 'U.S Army'. His fear and wariness ebbed away as he cracked a grin, his hand reaching out to touch the case. As soon as his hand placed itself upon it, another hand slammed down onto it to hold Jonathan's in place. Jonathan gasped in surprise and fright as he tried to wrench his hand away, but the hand, covered in a black leather glove, refused to move. Nervously, Jonathan's gaze drifted up to see who the hand belonged to.

"Hello."

Standing in front Jonathan was a male, dressed in garments befitting of a cowboy of the wild west. However, the clothing was out of place when Jonathan noticed the stranger's face. His skin was a deathly pale white, riddled with deep scars and cracks indicative of severe burns. Not a single trace of hair graced the smooth structure of his head, comparable to bone. Most disturbing of all was the scarring around his mouth that gave the illusion of a perpetual smile.

"You look well for a man who lost his arm." He continued with a calm and almost silky smooth tone.

Jonathan kept silent, his gaze never faltering from matching that of Skull Face's. Skull Face's hand swiftly removed itself from Jonathan's as he backed away.

"So, I have a dilemma." Skull Face confided. "I have it on very good authority that you are meant to be a man lacking an arm and should possess a very nice addition to your forehead. Yet here you are with barely a scratch."

Heart pounding and sweat forming, Jonathan remained silent. He didn't feel confident in answering, his appearance may be enough to cause this man a great deal of confusion, but actually speaking could compromise it all. Skull Face paced around the body-double, taking in his features like a predator analysing its prey for weakness.

"Now, since that means you could very well be Big Boss, I should probably shoot you now and tie up this problem in a matter of seconds. However, the question then remains; did I really eliminate him?" He remarked. "So, here's a better way to determine your identity. Let's have you perform a little test for me."

Jonathan's ears pricked up in fear, he was nothing compared to the comatose soldier he resembled in regards to skill and stamina. Any thorough test would be bound to ferret him out from the guise he was wearing. Skull Face finally stopped circling round and clapped his hands together three times. Suddenly, four clusters of glowing green particles began to emerge from the mist that had shrouded the fort. Jonathan squinted to try and identify what was approaching, allowing him to make out the faint outlines of four people walking towards him with the green particles surrounding them like moths to a flame.

"The test for you is simple." Skull Face explained. "These four are going to try and kill you. If you miraculously survive, I'll know that you're Big Boss. If you die, then I'll know that you are nothing but a copycat."

He then turned and walked away, his form melting away into the thick mist. Jonathan backed away from the Honey Bee, his attention now firmly fixed on the two assailants approaching him. His heart suddenly froze, four people had now turned into two. Panicking, he tapped his earpiece while glancing round to try and locate the missing two enemies.

"Ocelot." He grumbled, remembering to imitate the voice he'd been learning. "I have a problem. Some guy with a very nice face just introduced me to four chaps who are about to tear me a new one."

"Skull Face!?" Ocelot exclaimed in alarm, further exacerbating Jonathan's already intense amount of terror that resided within him.

"That's one why you could describe him."

"He must have set The Skulls upon you!"

"Oh shit, do you have any advice? There's a really thick mist around me and there was four, but I can only see two of them."

As Jonathan explained his situation, the two clusters of green particles suddenly rocketed into the air and disappeared from view.

"Scratch that, I don't see any of them. They just disappeared in front of my eyes."

"That must be The Mist Unit." Ocelot mused. "There's nothing I can actually do to help you, Snake. We know as much as you do."

"Thanks, Ocelot." Jonathan snarled in frustration as he glanced around one more time in a vain attempt to relocate his foes. Seeing that no one was in sight, he abandoned the transmission to Mother Base and approached the Honey Bee case. As soon as he flicked the catches that held it shut, he heard a sound that was similar to a gust of wind. He glanced towards the sound and noticed that one of the Mist Unit had reappeared and was bounding towards him. Gasping in shock, Jonathan hesitated as he struggled to understand the gravity of the situation, but was brought to his senses as soon as the glowing green eyes of his foe became apparent and the raised fist that had every intent of smashing into his face.

Nimbly, Jonathan pushed against the crate that the Honey Bee was laying on and propelled himself to the side as the Skull's fist swung forward and collided with another crate that was just beyond the position where Jonathan's head was. The crate gave way as the fist went straight through the wood effortlessly, causing splinters to fly everywhere. Without thinking, Jonathan then leaped forward and launched a punch of his own that swiftly connected. However, he hadn't been able to notice that the Skulls were wearing headphones over their ears. His fist smashed straight into the solid plastic structures, causing him to cry out in pain while the Skull merely tilted its head as a result of the blow with no obvious sign of actual harm being inflicted. Withdrawing its own fist from the wrecked crate, it looked towards Jonathan, revealing that it also possessed a mouthpiece, similar in appearance to a respirator, that covered the cheeks, nose and mouth, which left very little actual flesh visible.

While Jonathan was nursing his aching hand, it struck back with a punch of its own that landed squarely on Jonathan's chest. With a wheeze, Jonathan was knocked off his feet, his entire body sailing through the air before hitting the ground and skidding along it for a few dozen feet. Jonathan groaned in agony at the injury that had just been inflicted upon his ribs. He couldn't tell if they had been completely broken or just bruised, but he wasn't enjoying the sensation. Coughing slightly, Jonathan climbed back onto his feet and faced his opponent again, who was walking slowly enough that it bordered on being nonchalant or cocky.

"I'll remember that punch." He complimented before crouching into the stance that he'd practiced so frequently with Ocelot. He considered the option to attempt to shoot the Skull with his tranquilliser pistol, but doubted that these super soldiers would be affected by the darts. Once the pair had squared up, the Skull crouched into its own fighting stance, but refrained from striking first.

Jonathan flexed his fists, he knew that what he was dealing with was practically inhuman in its attributes, and a prolonged fight would result in him dying a very horrible death. He would have to opt for more unpredictable tactics to try and outwit the creature. After a brief moment of silence between the two, Jonathan yelled out as he threw his left fist forward. The Skull moved to block the incoming punch, but nothing happened as Jonathan withdrew the blow and transferred the momentum to his right fist that hooked round and slammed into the side of his opponent's eye socket. The blow was followed up by another as Jonathan threw his left forward and scored a hit against its chest, causing it to stumble back a few steps.

Sensing the initiative was his, Jonathan stepped forward to continue his assault, but his next punch missed completely as his opponent suddenly vanished in front of his eyes with a gust of wind. The blow connected with thin air as Jonathan became aware of the Skull materialising beside him. He could only glance at the vacant green eyes before he received a firm punch to the side of his ribs. Once again, he experienced a brief moment of flight as he was sent a great distance away from his original position by the force of the blow.

Dazed, Jonathan rolled over onto his stomach and began to get back onto his feet. However, his attempt was cut short as he felt a hand grasp the collar of his uniform and lift him off the ground. His gaze was met by his opponent's, its glowing green eyes illuminating the white and lifeless skin that covered its body. Jonathan shivered as he heard the sound of a blade being removed from its scabbard. The Skull had a large sword that was raising in preparation to slice into Jonathan and kill him. Gasping, Jonathan looked at the blade, his mind whirled as he frantically tried to concoct a plan to escape from his imminent demise.

As the blade stopped, mere moments away from being brought down upon Jonathan, his hand instinctively reached out and grabbed the wrist of the Skull in a feeble attempt to stop it. The Skull turned its head towards its wrist to see what had happened, which allowed Jonathan a single moment of opportunity. Jonathan's free hand grabbed his knife and slammed it into the side of The Skull's head. A loud crack emanated from his foe's head as the blade collided with bone and broke straight through, embedding itself into soft brain tissue.

The Skull didn't react to the knife now sticking out of the side of its head, causing Jonathan to believe that what he'd done had been for nothing. However, the Skull's grip on his collar and sword suddenly slackened, causing both to drop to the ground. After another brief moment, its knees buckled, resulting in it slumping to the ground. Jonathan breathed a sigh of disbelief as the glowing eyes began to fade, what little life within them draining away. Collapsing to his knees, Jonathan softly touched the Skull's neck in search of a pulse. Upon discovering that there wasn't one, his stomach churned and he gagged violently. Guilt overwhelmed him as the realisation dawned on him that he'd just killed his first person. Even though the Skull was a super soldier that had lost a great deal of its humanity, he still felt sorrow for causing its death.

Jonathan's moment of mourning abruptly ended as he heard the sound of the remaining three Skull's materialising around him and revealing their own swords. Jonathan glanced around him in search of something to defend himself with. He was no where near the fort or the supply dump that contained the Honey Bee, leaving him with no obstacles to try and outrun his enemies. Sighing in resignation, he looked down at the ground around him and became alarmed at the discovery of a Soviet soldier that had been decapitated, assault rifle still in his hands.

"Poor bastard." He thought. "He didn't stand a chance... And neither do I."

Breathing heavily, Jonathan snatched up the assault rifle and cocked it, causing a round to be ejected. He turned and looked at the three Skulls. They were watching him warily, their swords at the ready as they stepped closer in preparation to strike him down. The overwhelming silence was shattered by the approaching sound of rotor blades. When the Skulls made no attempt to look towards the sound, Jonathan assumed that the incoming helicopter must be crewed by individuals affiliated with them. With a heavy heart and the pit of his stomach wracked with fear, Jonathan took a deep breath and charged. Screaming a war cry, he pulled the trigger and sprayed the landscape the Skulls were occupying with bullets. His efforts were negated as his opponents vanished into thin air, causing every round to miss their target. No disappointment befell Jonathan, he knew that attempting to shoot the super soldiers was pointless, but he'd distracted them, which was enough to satisfy him.

"This may be the end for me," He reasoned mentally. "But I'll not die a coward!'

Sprinting towards the supply dump, his ears pricked up at the sound of the wind blowing, indicating that his foes were phasing back into reality. This was accompanied by the rotor blades, which sounded closer than ever. Arriving at the supply dump, Jonathan grasped the Honey Bee case and began to flee. Trying to take the weapon was pointless, but he wasn't in a position to think clearly or rationally when staring death in the face. Suddenly, Jonathan was sent flying as a Skull shoulder-charged into his side. His grip on the Honey Bee and his salvaged assault rifle disappeared as he fell back to earth with a thud. His body ached as his vision blurred due to being dazed. Wearily, he picked himself back up and let his right hand drift down to his bruised torso in an attempt to soothe the pain shooting through it. His attention was ripped away from his nursing as he saw his attacker charge towards him, sword raised and ready for the finale.

Without thinking, Jonathan let his left arm raise up in defence and he was greeted by a sudden heat emanate from his elbow, followed by agony more horrific than his gunshot wound. His mouth fell open as he screamed at the top of his lungs and fell to his knees. His gaze fell to the floor, which was being drenched in blood. Horrified, he looked towards his arm to see how bad the wound was. His horror doubled in ferocity when he found that he no longer had one. His vision blurred again as his stomach turned, an overwhelming urge to vomit violently coursing through him. Unable to contain himself, Jonathan doubled over and released the contents of his stomach, the mixture of half-digested food and stomach acid mixing with the blood that had stained the sand around him.

As his vision and other senses shut down out of shock, the last thing Jonathan could hear was the sound of heavy gunfire rip through the terrain around him.


	6. Acclimatisation

**Acclimatisation**

"I've never seen such a neat cut in all my life."

"Never mind about the cut, how is he?"

"Well, the arm was cut at the elbow. Part of the upper arm near the joint that connects the lower from upper arm was shattered too, so we had to remove a little more of the arm and bone to allow it the ability to heal."

"Blood loss?"

"Almost fatal."

The discussion continued as Jonathan's senses slowly began to collect themselves. His sense of touch was suffering the least as he noticed that he was laying down on a flat and comfortable surface. His attempt to roll over onto his side was halted by a hand holding him down by his shoulder.

"Don't move, Snake." A voice stated firmly. "You need to rest and let your wounds heal."

Jonathan blinked rapidly, each successive blink causing his sight to become clearer. He was able to recognise two humanoid shapes standing over him. A few more blinks passed and he was able to recognise one of them as Ocelot, the other was clearly a physician that he'd never met. Jonathan flashed a weak smile at Ocelot.

"Hello." He murmured. "Did you die too?"

"No, I didn't die and neither did you." Ocelot replied with a chuckle. "I came to Smasei personally with some good men via helicopter. Some of them didn't make it."

"I thought I was meant to be a bullet sponge." Jonathan replied while closing his eyes to rest them. "Why'd you come to save me?"

"Because you're worth more to me alive than dead."

Jonathan sniffed in response and attempted to scratch his nose. However, he was puzzled to find that his left arm had disobeyed. Glancing down, Jonathan was greeted with the sight of a mere stump where his arm had been. Jonathan's jaw dropped in disbelief, his remaining hand reaching up to feel the stump to confirm what he was seeing. His stomach suddenly churned as the realisation finally hit home, overwhelming nausea striking him without mercy. Jonathan's eye and lip twitched before he leaned forward and began to vomit violently. As he wretched, he became faintly aware of a set of hands bracing him as voices began to ring into his ears.

"He's going into shock," The doctor stated as he prepared a syringe with morphine. "Hold him steady."

Ocelot obeyed and held Jonathan in a sitting up position to ensure that he didn't lie down and end up choking on any vomit that hadn't been expelled. Mere moments passed before the doctor plunged the needle into Jonathan's neck and injected the contents into him. The effects were quickly observed as Jonathan began to calm down, the doctor and Ocelot laying him in the recovery position.

"Will he be alright, doctor?"

"Given time, yes. I can only imagine how horrible it must be to lose an arm." The physician replied quietly. "I'll keep him under observation and let you know if there's any change."

"Thank you."

* * *

Jonathan began to regain consciousness. His senses were hampered by the effects of the injection he'd been given, but he was capable of attempting to sit up in bed, albeit awkwardly. His memories were equally hazy, but he was certain that something horrible had happened. However, he wasn't quite sure what the event in question was. Shaking his head with a soft groan, he reached up to massage his forehead. To his surprise, his forehead registered something very cold touching it, which caused him to open his eye. Occupying his view was a large, red, metal hand, which was attempting to massage his forehead, but the material it was made of was proving to be more of an annoyance. Jonathan blinked as he became aware that whenever he mentally commanded his left arm to do anything, the metallic appendage responded awkwardly.

"Interesting invention, isn't it?"

Jonathan gasped and looked towards the voice. Standing by his bed, arms crossed, was Ocelot, who was smiling at him in a manner that didn't hint at how unusual the situation currently was. Jonathan looked at the hand and then back at Ocelot a few times before finally speaking.

"I remember." He whispered. "The Skulls... They..."

"They took a part of you." Ocelot replied. "I need you to remain calm, but you won't like what's happened."

Jonathan looked up at him, his heart freezing in anticipation for the bad news.

"You ended up losing an arm in that fight with The Skulls."

Silence fell, Jonathan staring blankly at Ocelot as he let this revelation be processed. His gaze then drifted towards the hand and looked lower to see it was part of a much larger prosthetic. Surgically grafted to his shoulder was a metal arm and hand, which responded clumsily as Jonathan flexed his metal fingers. After a brief moment of opening and closing them, Jonathan slumped back into lying down with his gaze fixed upon the ceiling.

"I feel strange." He stated passively.

"I can only imagine how awkward it must be for you." Ocelot replied to comfort him. "I was told that it can feel to some extent, so even though it's not flesh and bone, you should still be able to use it like a normal arm in some circumstances."

"Thank you, I guess?" Jonathan murmured with a sigh. His mind spinning as he processed his replacement arm. Minutes passed before Ocelot's hand touched Jonathan's shoulder, causing him to look at the Russian mercenary.

"Come." Ocelot ordered. "Let's go for a walk."

Jonathan was given no chance to respond as Ocelot helped him off the infirmary bed and acted as support while they wobbled their way out of the infirmary and onto the deck of Mother Base. The afternoon sunset cast a pleasant orange and pink glow across the platform and the surrounding ocean, which caught Jonathan's attention and wrenched it away from his new limb.

"I've noticed the view more often since you pointed it out to me." Ocelot said quietly as he looked out across the water. "I'd like to thank you for that."

"No problem." Jonathan whispered weakly as he admired the scenery too. Ocelot gently let go of Jonathan, leaving him to stand on his own two feet as they stared silently into the distance. Time and life passed around them, while the pair of them decided to stop and observe in contemplative quiet.

"Are you hungry?" Ocelot finally said after five minutes had passed by. "We can get something to eat, if you'd like?"

"I'd like that, Ocelot." Jonathan mused. "I'd like that a lot."

The pair wandered into the mess hall, which was practically deserted except for a few mercenaries having their dinner later than the other mercenaries residing on Mother Base. They were quick to notice Ocelot and Jonathan and even quicker to abandon their activities to stand and salute them.

"Please don't." Jonathan mumbled as he waved his metallic hand dismissively in response without realising. "I'm just here to eat."

They were swift to nod in acknowledgement and return to their business as Jonathan approached the serving counter. Their presence was quickly noted by the chef, who approached them with a smile and a nod of greeting.

"Hello, Boss, Ocelot." He chirped. "How can I help you today?"

"Something to eat." Jonathan mumbled. "Anything will do, as long as it tastes good."

"Coming right up, Boss!" The chef replied while he clapped his hands together in delight. Mere moments passed before two plates of pulled pork, gravy, vegetables and mashed potatoes were put on a tray for Jonathan and Ocelot to take away for consumption.

"Thank you." Jonathan grumbled. "It looks delicious."

"It should taste as good as it looks, Boss." The chef replied with a polite nod. "Thanks for the compliment."

Ocelot took the tray and carried it over to an empty table, while followed by Jonathan. Once they were sat down, Jonathan looked at his metal hand uneasily before attempting to pick up his cutlery. His first attempt failed when he was too gentle and ended up dropping his fork, but after a few more attempts, he was able to begin eating. Ocelot watched quietly while consuming his own meal.

"How are you feeling?" Ocelot asked passively.

"Could be better." Jonathan replied. "I still feel weird about this arm, but spending a bit of time not thinking about it helped. Thank you for that, Ocelot."

"If it helps, then it was worth my time."

Jonathan chuckled before they both concentrated on their meals in silence. Once they'd finished, they ventured back to the infirmary where he was put back to bed to rest.

"You seem to be in the habit of getting hurt." Ocelot remarked. "It makes me wonder why we even bother having you around."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have picked the person who's never been in combat." Jonathan replied sarcastically. "I've heard inexperience is a very bad thing to look for in a legend's body double."

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." Ocelot countered with a chuckle. "You may have lost an arm, but you did kill a Skull. That's something to be proud of."

"I wish I could think of it in that way." Jonathan sighed. "I just feel bad about killing someone, even if they were a super soldier or something."

"Killing is hard... At first."

Jonathan looked up at Ocelot with a raised eyebrow due to the last remark unnerving him. The realisation dawned on him that Ocelot could be responsible for numerous deaths. The idea had never occurred to him until now. Ocelot stared back with no change in emotion. Realising that he was serious, Jonathan nodded in understanding. Ocelot nodded back before making his exit, leaving Jonathan by himself. After a moment of contemplation, Jonathan reached out for the tape recorder he used for listening to Big Boss' voice and pressed play. After placing the recorder on the bedside table, Jonathan laid his head down to rest, the voice of Big Boss echoing round the room to lull him to sleep.


	7. A Quiet Interruption

**A Quiet Interruption**

A few weeks had passed to allow Jonathan time to continue using his prosthetic arm. Among light physical training and firearms practice, he also had considerable time spent on normal tasks like holding fragile objects with his new limb to relearn gripping them with appropriate strengths. However, it had not stopped Ocelot from tossing him back out into the field for another assignment. Now sat in the back of the helicopter once more, Jonathan was watching the scenery pass by below him. The assignment he'd been provided was simple, according to Ocelot. He was to be dropped off near a road that was to be the route for a Soviet convoy. Jonathan was to ambush it to assassinate a high ranking officer that would be part of the convoy.

Jonathan began sifting through the equipment on board the helicopter to select his weapons. Aware of the need to remain at a distance, he put a rocket launcher to one side so that he could take it with him once he landed. He also picked out a sniper rifle and a Wu tranquilliser pistol so that he was capable of protecting himself if anything was to go wrong. Satisfied that his choice of guns would meet any requirement during the assignment, Jonathan tidied away the weapons he had not chosen and then approached the cockpit to talk to the pilot.

"How long until we reach the LZ?" Jonathan rumbled, his vocal chords straining to imitate the person he was pretending to be. The pilot silently raised his fist and let four fingers stretch out. Guessing that the time was four minutes, Jonathan opened his mouth to thank the pilot, but was cut off as the sound of shattering glass echoed round the confines of the helicopter. Shards of glass peppered him while the pilot slumped forward limply. Jonathan pulled the pilot back up to check whether he was okay, but was shocked to find that his face was covered in blood. The pilot had been shot, the wound that was inflicted clearly fatal due to the hole that had been neatly drilled through his forehead by the bullet. Jonathan let the corpse slump again as the helicopter began to roll to the right. As his balance was undermined, Jonathan yelped as he fell towards the side of the helicopter and landed against the side door with a loud thud.

"Ocelot!" Jonathan yelled into his earpiece. "The pilot's dead. He was shot while flying me to the LZ!"

"What!?" Ocelot asked in shock. "Are you sure?"

"He has a hole in his forehead! Of course I'm bloody sure!"

"It must be her."

"Her!?"

"Quiet."

Jonathan's blood froze at the name. The sniper that was tasked to eliminate Big Boss had finally struck. However, Jonathan's moment of fear was ended abruptly as the helicopter continued to roll and made him fall to the ceiling. Cursing in discomfort, Jonathan grabbed hold of the door handle and pulled on it with all his strength. The side door slowly opened to show the scenery barrelling towards them as the helicopter spiralled out of the sky. The spinning was beginning to make Jonathan nauseous as he held onto the door frame in preparation to throw himself out of the helicopter. If he remained, he was bound to die when the helicopter hit the ground, but if he threw himself out, he had a slim chance, in his mind, of surviving.

After muttering a desperate prayer, Jonathan launched himself out of the aircraft. His fall was brief and his landing was painful as his body impacted against solid rock. He had landed upon the edge of a cliff, while the helicopter continued its descent to the valley below. Jonathan lay in agony, his torso and arms aching, while his combat fatigues were badly scuffed from landing on rock. Groaning, Jonathan rolled over onto his side and gently began to feel his torso with the intent to see if he'd broken any bones. His examination yielded the information that his torso was fine and his left arm would have been fractured beyond repair if it hadn't been made of metal. Jonathan murmured a silent thank you for his stroke of luck and awarded himself a few minutes to let the pain from the bumps and bruises he'd sustained ebb away.

"Ocelot." He whispered while resting. "I jumped from the helicopter. I'm all shook up, but nothing badly damaged."

"That's amazing!" Ocelot remarked. "Do you know where you are?"

"Some kind of cliff." Jonathan began, but was cut off when a loud explosion signalled that the helicopter had finally crashed. Jonathan peeped over the edge of the cliff to confirm this before continuing to report to Ocelot.

"Cliff." He repeated. "Other than that, I've no idea."

"I'll see what I can do to evacuate you from the area. Stay in the immediate area of the crash site and await further instructions."

"What about Quiet?"

"Pray that she thinks you died in the crash."

"Thanks for the optimism." Jonathan replied with a roll of his eyes, while Ocelot merely chuckled before cutting the connection. After the aches and pains had begun to subside, Jonathan picked himself up and glanced around. The surrounding area was nothing but sand and rock without end, except for one site that caught Jonathan's eye. Near to his current position was a ruin crafted from sandstone. What it previously was before becoming a derelict site was impossible for Jonathan to determine, but it was obvious that it was some form of building. After informing Ocelot of the landmark, he began to walk towards it.

Five minutes past of complete silence as Jonathan concentrated on getting to the landmark. His hope was that since it was a stark contrast to just sand, it would be much easier for the rescue helicopter to find from above. It became apparent that the structure he'd spotted was part of a much larger collection of ruins. Jonathan swiftly concluded that it must be a settlement, long since deserted, as he approached a large stone arch that separated him from a basin in the rock that comprised the surrounding landscape. Within the basin was scores of more ruins, not as prominent as the first structure he'd seen, but confirming his observations and conclusions nonetheless.

Taking a moment to admire the scenery, Jonathan's gaze settled upon a large arch that had stairs leading up to it on the far side of the settlement. A truly magnificent structure, even in its current state. Jonathan whistled in appreciation of the architecture, but was suddenly distracted when a glint of the sun reflecting off a reflective surface began to appear on top of the arch. Tilting his head, Jonathan watched it silently as he considered what the phenomena was.

Suddenly, his eyes widened as he remembered that he was not alone. There was a sniper with powers beyond that of a human looking for him. Snipers have rifles with telescopic sights, which are made of glass. Glass reflects light.

"Shit!" He yelped as he dived to the right. As his feet left the ground, the loud crack of a solitary gunshot echoed round the basin, followed by the soft thud as the bullet hit the stone arch he'd passed under. Jonathan landed moments later, his body complaining as his already present bruises were aggravated by the sudden impact. Hissing in anguish, Jonathan scuttled behind a nearby rock and tapped his earpiece.

"I found Quiet." He reported. "She just took a shot at me."

"Are you hit?" An unfamiliar voice asked, causing Jonathan to mentally scold himself for not imitating Big Boss.

"No, I was lucky enough to dive out of the way." He grumbled back, swiftly slipping into character as best as he could.

"Drop the bullshit. It's Miller speaking." Miller replied acidly. Jonathan gave a sigh of relief, his charade safe for now.

"What do I do?" Jonathan asked while looking through what few belongings he had. "I wasn't able to take my firearms with me during the crash. I've only got my tranquillizer gun."

"Running would be a good option."

Jonathan deadpanned and rolled his eyes at the idea. Past experience had resulted in him losing an arm, he had no intention of repeating his mistake and getting a much more fatal result.

"You mean the best out of crap ones?" Jonathan asked sarcastically. "Quiet has a rifle that can kill people and has powers that gods would be jealous of. I have a tranquilliser gun."

"And what do you suggest?" Miller snarled. "Taking her on?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Silence fell, Jonathan smirked for a moment as he realised that his radical suggestion had surprised Miller. In Miller's eyes, Jonathan was a waste of skin that looked slightly like Big Boss, a tool that would be discarded as soon as the real article had recovered. However, the aforementioned waste of skin had suggested taking on a super soldier and probably die in a blaze of glory in the wastelands of Afghanistan.

"Ocelot." Jonathan said quietly. "I need advice. How do I go about doing this?"

"You're going to try?"

"I tried running from The Skulls before." Jonathan explained. "I lost an arm that way. I might as well take my chances, if I fail, Miller won't have to be such a whiny bitch anymore."

Ocelot chuckled softly at the jab at Miller before humming in thought.

"Not much you can do here." Ocelot mused. "Counter-sniper tactics don't exist for an unarmed man out in the open. Breaking cover will reveal your position, but staying in cover will force the sniper to relocate. It's pretty much impossible."

"Well, that's helpful." Jonathan replied a sigh. "It'd be a miracle if I could get a proper gun."

"That can be arranged."

"Excuse me?" Jonathan asked in surprise. "I can get a gun?"

"Sure." Ocelot explained. "We have helicopters or planes that can airdrop you supplies."

"And you're only telling me this now!?"

"You never asked."

Jonathan's temple throbbed in rage, but swiftly calmed down as he realised that being angry at Ocelot was not the priority. Taking a deep breath and exhaling, he reasserted control over his emotions and calmly placed his order.

"I want an assault rifle and a sniper rifle." He asked politely. "A new arm, ticket out of this mess and a replacement eye too."

"HA!" Ocelot guffawed. "The first two are already enroute. I didn't think you'd be able to get your equipment out, so I had some replacements dispatched when you reported the crash."

"Thanks, Ocelot." Jonathan replied as he looked up at the sky. The faint sound of plane engines catching his attention as he saw the aircraft and a small object falling from it.

"It's just arrived." He reported as he saw the package's parachute deploy. "I think it's going to land..."

Jonathan frowned as he watched the package slowly drift in the direction towards Quiet's location. Jonathan cursed quietly as he peeped out from cover to see the package land in front of the arch Quiet had positioned herself on..

"Literally in the field of fire." Jonathan finished. "Thanks, Plane Guy, you really helped me out."

"Maybe next time you should take your guns with you when jumping out of helicopters."

Jonathan laughed back sarcastically before cutting the connection. Sighing heavily, he hid back behind cover and rubbed his forehead in thought. The decision was simple; attempt to get to the package and take on Quiet or abandon it and flee for his life. Neither option had any realistic chance of success, considering the circumstances, and Jonathan knew it. Grunting in frustration, Jonathan peeped out once more to see if he could spot Quiet. Amazingly, the tell-tale glint of a scope was still glinting from the same position. Jonathan thought it perplexing that she'd not moved, but swiftly realised that his opponent didn't need to. All Quiet had to do was sit and wait for Jonathan to move and victory would be for the taking.

"Clever." Jonathan whispered as he hid once more. "But can I sneak to the crate?"

He glanced left and right to see if there was any nearby rocks he could either crawl or run to. Both sides showed plenty of choices, but none were close enough to sneak to. He would have to run. Glancing between the two, Jonathan gauged how many rocks there were on either side. Left of his current position was a grassy verge that slipped down into an area empty of rocks, but plenty of grass to hide in, while the right lead round the edge of the basin along a road with rocks marking the edge. Believing that the right would be too predictable, Jonathan picked left and leaped out of cover. Sprinting madly down the verge, Jonathan leaped into the air as he approached the bottom. The expected solitary gunshot followed, the bullet smashing into the ground as it missed the target.

Jonathan breathed a hiss of agony and a sigh of relief. His bruises were crying out for mercy, while his luck had allowed him to missed shots. He was certain that every shot he chanced would inevitably be the one that struck him, but he couldn't hazard climbing back up the slope and fleeing now. Hiding in the grass, Jonathan retrieved his binoculars and looked through them. He was easily able to spot his target, a humanoid shape with frequent glints confirming that it was Quiet. Jonathan quickly stowed his binoculars, aware that he could cause glints too and reveal his position again. Instead, he was going to play it safe and crawl through the grass. Quietly and tentatively, he edged his way through the undergrowth, his gaze firmly set on his foe as he monitored their position.

Minute after agonising minute passed while Jonathan crawled, aware that his cover was running out. However, he was relieved to find that there was another rock large enough for him to hide behind. Once in cover, he breathed another heavy sigh of relief and let his hand creep onto the top of the rock to help him peek out. Suddenly, another gunshot rang out and Jonathan became overwhelmed by a burning sensation that was agonisingly painful emanating from his hand. He swiftly snatched it back and found, to his horror, that he now had a small hole in the centre of his hand. He had been shot. Taking a deep breath, Jonathan released a gut-wrenching scream as blood oozed from the hole. He clutched his hand and cursed without restraint to numb the pain as tears rolled down his cheeks. Curses turned to hysterical laughter as Jonathan rocked back and forth, his eyes clenched shut.

"Oh my fucking god!" Jonathan hissed between laughs. "This is the worst thing ever!"

His laughter eventually began to slow down as the effort wasted what little air he was breathing, the lack of oxygen tiring him. Once regular breathing began again, his faculties began to regroup as his lungs began to receive air to process. Wearily, Jonathan retrieved a bandage from what few belongings he had and wrapped his hand tightly, followed by rolling up his sleeve and wrapping another round his upper arm to act as a semi-torniquet. It wouldn't be tight enough to cut off blood flow, but it should, in his mind, reduce it to some degree. Satisfied that he'd done what he could, Jonathan became acutely aware of flecks of sand trying to irritate his remaining eye. Squinting, he looked up to see a massive sandstorm tumbling towards him. Raising his arm defensively, Jonathan watched as the sand buffeted him, leaving tiny scratches against his face as it was thrashed against him mercilessly by the elements.

The urge to lay down and let the storm pass was present, but this was his only chance. While the storm was here, it would be impossible for Quiet to see him, just as it would be for him to see them. Bravely, Jonathan stood up and began to walk through the swirling vortex of sand and dust, operating via memory as to where the package would be as visibility vanished and his rock, which was a reference point for direction, vanished with it. Jonathan muttered expletives as he continued to trudge through the swirling mass of particles, completely lost as all visible landmarks for reference disappeared. As the realisation he was lost began to hit home, Jonathan was suddenly tripped up. His descent was quicker than expected as he landed against something with corners that was angled upwards, which he swiftly discovered was a set of steps.

Gasping lightly, Jonathan realised that he was near the arch that he'd last seen Quiet on top of, as well as the package, which caused him to crawl up the stairs and towards it. As he began to see the arch, he became aware of the storm beginning to subside, causing him to mutter a prayer of gratitude. He swiftly hid himself under the arch, his opportunity to retrieve the contents of the package had passed. Quiet would have seen the package land and kept an eye on it. Since the storm was passing, he'd be unable to get to it without them noticing. Even if he had been able to reach it, he knew that the moment Quiet saw the empty package, they'd know he was near by and relocate. Taking a deep breath, Jonathan sat down, his back resting against the arch and rested, the sandstorm now subsided completely.

With his eye closed, Jonathan became faintly aware of a soft humming. He furrowed his brow in concentration as he focused on the sound, his ears attempting to tune out the ambient noise to better recognise the hum. Slowly, he became more aware of it, revealing that it was a soft melodic humming, female in origin, repeating the same collection of notes. Jonathan looked up at the ceiling of the arch, above him was the sniper, quietly humming a tune to pass the time before he, in their mind, would eventually run for it and be cut down like a sacrificial lamb. The thought made Jonathan smile as he noticed he possessed the element of surprise. After picking himself up off the ground, he crept towards a set of stairs that lead up to the top of the arch.

Half way up the steps, he laid down and began to crawl up the final few to stay silent. His sight slowly began to reveal the top of the arch, where he could finally see his prey. What he saw made his jaw drop. Laying against the hard stone, humming softly, was a woman dressed in the most ludicrous clothing possible for a super soldier. A pair of military boots gave way to a pair of ripped tights, which united with a plain black thong and a green holster strapped to her thigh. Above that was a scant set of webbing that emphasised the light load of a sniper, consisting of a harness and belt accompanied by two dump pouches and a knife scabbard. Mingled between that was a simple black bikini, above which was a brunette head of hair, restrained in a pony tail. Lastly, her hands were covered by gloves, the left had a long, black glove that ended just below the shoulder, while the right had a standard green glove.

Jonathan blinked a few times, his mind processing the stark contrast between this member of The Skulls and the members of the Mist Unit he'd encountered before. Both had super human powers, yet this young lady had nothing of the genuinely terrifying aesthetics The Mist operators had. By all accounts, this was a woman ready for a day at the most violent beach on earth. Jonathan shook his head and finally finished crawling up the steps. He stood up and took a silent step towards her. Quiet made no indication that she had sensed anything was wrong, her humming continuing to fill the air. Jonathan took a deep breath and readied his tranquillizer, aiming squarely at the sniper's back. If he was to take the first, and probably last, shot at this woman, it couldn't miss.

Gingerly, Jonathan put his metallic hand on the slide, once he'd pulled it back he'd have to take the shot instantly. The Mist Unit were capable of vanishing into thin air, it was likely Quiet could too. Slowly, he dragged back the slide, sweat forming on his brow as his prey continued to hum obliviously. He let go and the slide clanked back into place with a sound that, under the circumstances, sounded deafening. Quiet stopped humming, her ears pricking up in surprise at the noise. Jonathan gasped and pulled the trigger as he saw the scantly clad female vanish before his eyes. Sighing heavily, Jonathan threw the pistol on the ground in frustration. His chance had passed and Quiet had vanished. He took a few steps towards the spot she'd been laying in and fell to his knees in resignation. As he lifted his hand to tap his earpiece, he noticed that the dart he'd fired wasn't there. If he'd missed, the dart would have embedded itself into the ground or bounced to somewhere nearby. Jonathan glanced around frantically, but found no sign of the dart.

"Did I hit her?" He wondered out loud before looking out across the ruins. His question was answered when he saw a fast moving cloud of dust, indicative of footsteps, quickly slowing into the form of Quiet running sluggishly towards, what Jonathan assumed was, her next sniping position. The run deteriorated rapidly into a walk, followed by a stumble, which finished with her collapsing in a heap in the centre of the ruins. Jonathan watched her silently, expecting her to vanish again as a final gesture of defiance, but she didn't.

"Ocelot." Jonathan uttered in disbelief. "I... I got her."

"You what?"

"I think I got her."

"Well, find out!"

Jonathan nodded and practically threw himself down the stairs as he ran towards the downed sniper. After briefly stopping to retrieve the assault rifle from the package, he sprinted towards his captive. Upon arrival, he levelled his rifle at her and edged towards her, cautious of whether this was still a trick. After gently kicking her hand to see if a reaction was gained, Jonathan sighed as Quiet didn't respond. He slung his rifle behind his back and knelt down to examine her. He was quick to notice that the dart had indeed hit its mark, embedded in her lower spine. Jonathan pulled the dart out and tossed it aside, reasoning that he must have been able to temporarily paralyse her legs with the dart's payload, whether he was right, he'd have to ask a doctor.

"It seems so." He grumbled, his voice slipping into character in case Quiet could still listen. "I've got her."

"Good." A voice that Jonathan realised was Miller's said. "Kill her."

"No." Ocelot countered. "She could have information. Spare her and we'll interrogate her."

"She's a Skull!" Miller argued. "I'm not letting one of those things on Mother Base!"

"It's not our choice, Miller. Snake's the only one there right now."

"You know the truth, Snake!" Miller snarled angrily at Jonathan, hinting at his position as a body double. "Kill her, now!"

Jonathan shook his head. He had killed before and the experience was horrible, even though the person he had killed was attempting to eliminate him. He couldn't stomach shooting Quiet in cold blood, even if she had every intention of killing him.

"We're taking her back." Jonathan stated passively.

"You son of a-" Miller began to yell furiously, but his line was cut off.

"That was very brave of you." Ocelot said. "He's not going to take your decision seriously."

"He'll take yours seriously though, surely?"

"Maybe, we'll see." Ocelot mused. "He and I are equals, The Boss is who we look to for orders."

Jonathan opened his mouth to reply, but heard a gun being drawn from a holster. He looked down to see Quiet struggling to retrieve her sidearm, causing him to drop to his knees and grab her wrist. The sniper grunted defiantly as she struggled to take back control of the pistol, her eyelids suddenly gaining a strange set of black markings. Jonathan grunted in return as his wounded hand pointed the gun away from him, while his metallic hand clamped round her wrist like a vice. Unable to wrestle control from her completely, Jonathan slotted his finger into the trigger guard and pulled the trigger, causing it to fire. The shot missed both individuals as it was pointed away from them. He pulled the trigger again repeatedly, the gun swiftly emptying itself of ammunition. As soon as the gun merely clicked in response to having its trigger pulled, Quiet sighed in resignation and let go of the pistol. Jonathan tossed the gun away and retrieved Quiet's knife, which he discarded also. Shaking his head, Jonathan wagged a metallic finger at Quiet, silently signalling his disapproval of her attempt to struggle. The response he got was a huff of frustration, followed by the woman closing her eyes.

Satisfied that she wasn't going to try again, Jonathan untied one of his boot's laces and removed it. Lacking any rope or handcuffs to restrain Quiet, Jonathan improvised by tying her up with a boot lace. He wasn't convinced it was a suitable solution, but it was better than leaving her hands free. As Jonathan finished tying the knot, he looked up to see a helicopter approaching.

"This is Pequod!" He reported over the radio. "Will be landing near you very soon, Boss!"

"Thank you, Pequod!" Jonathan rumbled. "Home sounds good right now."


	8. Silent Fury

**Silent Fury**

The sound of rotor blades was the only ambient noise in the back of the helicopter transporting Jonathan and the infamous female sniper, Quiet, back to Mother Base. Jonathan looked down at the unconscious woman, who was laying on the floor of the helicopter with her hands now in proper handcuffs after Pequod, the pilot, provided some. After a few moments to let himself rest after the nerve-wracking encounter between him and her, Jonathan picked up her limp body and placed it upon one of the benches lining the sides of the cabin. Gingerly, he placed her hands over her scant underwear to preserve what little modesty she had left and then draped a blanket over her to keep her warm. He turned to head to the back of the cabin and take a seat, but was interrupted by the sound of someone standing up. Turning round, Jonathan was amazed to see Quiet had recovered. The sniper was knelt down between the two benches, looking up at him with the black marks around her eyes once more. Amazement turned to shock when Jonathan saw her hand phase through the handcuffs, freeing her from their restraint.

Jonathan lurched forward to tackle her, but was swiftly stopped in his tracks as the blanket he'd graciously placed over Quiet was thrown in his face. Stumbling back, Jonathan tore the blanket away and threw it on the ground before glancing round to see where Quiet was now. To his surprise, he found the side door of the helicopter open, indicating that she'd jumped to freedom. Jonathan grabbed hold of a handle beside the door and leaned out to have a look outside. All he could see was the scenery of Afghanistan passing by beneath him. After glancing up to see if she had decided to climb onto the roof of the helicopter, Jonathan pulled the door shut and sat down.

"Shit..." He muttered to himself before tapping his earpiece, his voice emulating Big Boss in case Pequod could hear him. "Ocelot, Quiet's escaped. She made her hand sort of... Pass through the handcuffs somehow and jumped out of the chopper."

"Damn." Ocelot replied sadly. "She was one of a kind. What a waste of effort on your part, Snake."

"Good riddance, I say." Miller growled. "She wasn't going to set a single foot on Mother Base anyway. I would have made sure of that."

Jonathan rolled his eyes and cut the connection. He had no intention of listening to Miller complain when he had a hole in his remaining hand, given to him, with compliments, by Quiet herself. He sat down and let his head rest against the back of the cabin, his eye closing to let him recuperate from what was meant to be a simple assignment. In his experience, none of his assignments had gone smoothly, a concept that seemed to be run of the mill in the line of business he had been forced into. Breathing a deep sigh, Jonathan allowed his senses to slowly shut down and drift into sleep.

* * *

"Boss! We have a problem!"

Jonathan's eye flew open and glanced around. The helicopter was no longer over the deserts of Afghanistan, instead it was the blue Indian Ocean where Mother Base was located. Jonathan stood up and carefully made his way to the cockpit, where the only other person on board was Pequod.

"What is it?" He grumbled. Pequod looked up at him before tapping a circular instrument upon the dashboard, which was beeping a loud warning signal.

"We have a bogey on our six." Pequod responded. "It's tailing us."

"Don't lead it back to Mother Base." Miller ordered over the radio installed in the cockpit. "Under no circumstances must they find our location."

"Roger that." Pequod replied obediently before looking back at Jonathan. "I'll do some evasive manoeuvres and shake it off! Brace yourself, Boss!"

Jonathan nodded before rushing to the back of the cabin and taking his seat. He then reached out and grabbed hold of a handle to brace, but stopped when the sound of machine gun fire rattled off the side of the helicopter and shattered the passenger door windows. Jonathan cursed in surprise before peeping out of the window to see a jet fighter thunder past them at high speed. The aircraft then banked right sharply to turn round for another crack at shooting them down. Jonathan grabbed the door and slid it open to keep watch of the fighter, where he was greeted by the sight of a missile igniting and rocketing its way towards them from the aircraft. His attention was dragged away when a louder, more urgent beep began to sound in the cockpit.

"Incoming!" Pequod yelled and flicked a switch which caused a mass of flares to erupt from the right side of the helicopter. Jonathan watched as the missile continued on its course towards them, but suddenly changed direction and slammed into the ocean with a loud explosion. Their pursuer continued to fly towards them, causing Jonathan to take cover as another volley of gunfire clattered against his transport. Once the jet had thundered past them again, Jonathan opened the left side door of the cabin and pulled the door mounted machine gun into position. It was doubtful that he'd be able to shoot down the agile fighter, but it should, in his mind, distract it enough to ensure no more missiles were fired.

As he prepared to open fire, the helicopter lurched violently as Pequod initiated another attempt to elude their pursuer. Jonathan fell back and barely saved himself from falling out of the other side of the helicopter before he was thrown in the opposite direction. He landed heavily against the machine gun, causing him to wheeze as the impact left him breathless. Wearily, he looked up to see the plane roaring towards them as another missile ignited.

"We've got another one!" Jonathan cried out as the instruments detected the incoming munition. Pequod dutifully flicked a switch that caused the left side flares to ignite. Jonathan watched closely, expecting the missile to begin veering off course. His eyes widened when the missile ignored the flares and continued its path towards them.

"It's an LGM!" Pequod shouted urgently. "Hold on!"

Jonathan ignored Pequod's advice and grasped the machine gun. The likelihood that they'd be able to outrun or outwit the missile was nigh impossible, but attempting to shoot down the munition would help their chances slightly. He was about to pull the trigger and begin firing when Jonathan felt something push him aside. He fell towards the cockpit and landed face down into the cold metal of the floor. Rolling over, Jonathan looked at the machine gun to find Quiet manning it. His jaw dropped open as he watched the sniper, eyelids still marked in black, squint slightly before releasing a hail of gunfire that caused the missile to explode. Jonathan shook his head to dispel the surprise and picked himself up. He placed his hand upon Quiet's shoulder, causing her to look at him.

"Thank you!" Jonathan rumbled loudly so he could be heard over the rotor blades. "But we're not done yet!"

Quiet looked at him blankly before nodding in understanding and vacating the machine gun. Jonathan watched her as she retrieved her rifle from the back of the cabin and took up a position to shoot at the plane, which had begun another approach towards them. Realising that she was going to help, Jonathan stepped towards her and grasped the machine gun firmly before opening fire at the fighter. As bullets peppered the sky, the fighter responded by banking left and right erratically to dodge the gunfire. Jonathan muttered expletives under his breath as the plane appeared to be succeeding in evading his attempts to shoot it down. No matter how many bullets he threw at it, the aircraft continued to approach rapidly.

Suddenly, a solitary gunshot emanated from Quiet's rifle. Jonathan flinched and looked at her in surprise. She lowered her rifle and turned to look out of the other side of the helicopter as the fighter flew underneath them. Jonathan looked in the same direction and witnessed their pursuer slowly descend towards the water. Once its right wing glanced off the Indian Ocean, it swiftly flipped over and crashed into the sea in a ball of flame.

Jonathan breathed a huge sigh of relief and sat down, forgetting that Quiet was still present and in possession of a loaded rifle. His gaze slowly settled on the sniper, who had also sat down and was looking at him with the same blank expression. The pair stared at each other silently, gauging how much of a threat they were to one another. Quiet made the first move as she grasped the bolt of the rifle and began to pull it repeatedly, causing the rounds that remained in it to be ejected onto the floor in a symphony of harmless clinking. She then leaned forward and presented her rifle, which Jonathan, after a moment of hesitation, took from her. After putting it beside him, he watched as she phased her hand through the handcuffs once more, returning to her original "restrained" state.

Looking at the handcuffs, Jonathan mulled over why Quiet had saved him and Pequod. His conclusion was that if they'd been shot down, she would be killed too and it was a matter of self-preservation on her part. However, to then put herself back into the handcuffs puzzled him. Why bother if they were completely useless, he wondered. His eyebrow then raised inquisitively as he scanned the sniper from head to toe. She was sat with her hands in her lap, facing forward without complaint or expression.

"Total compliance?" Jonathan thought. "No resistance, yet why pretend to jump out of the helicopter?"

Shaking his head, Jonathan took a deep breath and cleared his throat loudly, causing Quiet to look at him. Beckoning her towards him with his metallic hand, Jonathan watched as she obediently stood up and stepped towards him. Reaching out, Jonathan grasped her hand lightly and used his wounded hand to unlock the handcuffs.

"No point in using them if they don't work." Jonathan rumbled while removing the handcuffs. "Plus, it's the least I can do since you saved us."

Looking up, he could see that Quiet was remaining completely passive, his facial expression still emotionless. However, as she nodded in gratitude and began to sit down again, Jonathan noticed what he thought was a slight smile, but swiftly dismissed it as a mistake on his part.

* * *

"We're almost home, Boss."

Jonathan's eyes opened wearily, unaware that he'd fallen asleep for the remainder of the journey to Mother Base. He looked at Quiet to see her still facing forward passively, causing him to breathe a quiet sigh of relief. Standing up, he looked out of the side of the helicopter with the expectation that it would be a quiet landing, followed by a meal and rest. This was shattered upon seeing practically every inhabitant of the offshore platform on high alert, their weapons aimed directly at him. Eyes widening, Jonathan glanced up to see a helicopter, armed with a rotary machine gun that was pointed at them, flanking the transport containing Quiet. Gingerly, he grasped the door handle and slid it open to see Miller waiting for them on one of the landing pads, surrounded by scores of mercenaries.

"She's not setting a foot on this platform!" Miller cried out, causing Quiet to approach the door and peek out due to curiosity. Jonathan placed a hand on her shoulder to grab her attention and shook his head. Quiet stared back at him blankly, causing him to point at her seat forcefully. After a few moments, she obeyed and sat back down. Nervously, Jonathan sat down also, waiting for the helicopter to land before trying to ensure she came to no harm. However, his intention was shattered when Quiet suddenly stood up and leaped from the helicopter. Jonathan lurched forward to try and stop her from doing so, but was too late. He could merely grasp the door handle and watch her free-fall towards Mother Base.

Suddenly, Quiet vanished in front of everyone's eyes in a puff of black smoke. Jonathan's jaw dropped, once again she had fled his captivity, but she was now loose on Mother Base.

"Land this damn thing, now!" He ranted at Pequod. Pequod nodded and began to expedite landing upon the helipad. Before they could touch down, they saw a swirl of smoke materialise behind Miller and his group of soldiers, causing them to turn round and witness Quiet reappear in front of them. The soldiers swiftly surrounded her and cocked their weapons in preparation to fire.

"Hold your fire!" Jonathan ordered, his voice slipping into the tone of Big Boss, as he leaped from the helicopter while it was touching down. Miller looked at him in fury, his face swiftly reddening as he witnessed the fake trying to undermine him.

"She's working with Cipher..." Miller spat, but then hesitated before continuing with an indignant tone. "Boss."

"She saved mine and Pequod's life." Jonathan countered while striding towards Quiet, pushing past the crowd of soldiers in the process.

"Bullshit!" Miller argued. "She was saving herself. Men, open fire!"

The soldiers readied themselves to carry out the order, but found themselves aiming directly at Jonathan. He had firmly placed himself in front of Quiet and was now acting as her willing human shield.

"Quiet will be kept here in a secure location." Jonathan stated bluntly. "She's of more value to us alive than dead."

Miller trembled violently as his blood boiled with rage. The tension mounted rapidly as the disabled mercenary looked fit to explode in a practically psychotic rage, but the moment was broken with the arrival of Ocelot.

"That's enough, Miller!" Ocelot said sternly. "The Boss has spoken."

Miller looked at Ocelot. Even though his eyes were covered by sunglasses, it was obvious that he was glaring at Ocelot with a ferocity that could bore holes through mountains. After a few moments of silence, Miller spat on the ground and pushed aside a soldier violently as he skulked off angrily. Everyone watched quietly before turning their attention back to Quiet, who had made no attempt to flee while they were distracted by Miller. Ocelot took a step towards her, his gaze scanning every inch of her form before speaking.

"Take her to the cell." Ocelot commanded, causing the soldiers to edge towards Quiet. One soldier then began using his gun as a way to signal to Quiet the order to turn around. The sniper stood her ground, ignoring the command the nervous mercenary was giving her.

"Move!" The soldier barked, his tone dripping with fear. Quiet looked into the soldier's eyes with an inquisitive look, but was distracted when Jonathan placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Go." Jonathan ordered softly. "I'll be with you every step of the way."

Quiet gazed into his eye, silently reading her captor's state. After a few moments, she nodded and turned to walk away, Jonathan following her with Ocelot by his side. Glancing at Ocelot, Jonathan noticed that Ocelot was desperate to speak, but was wary of whether Quiet would be able to listen. The group escorted the sniper to a set of stairs that lead down into a large room. In the centre was a massive cage equipped with a bed, toilet and shower. There was no privacy to be given to the occupant. Every move they made inside the cell would be visible for all to see. Jonathan frowned at the state of affairs, while he wished to lock Quiet up, he didn't want to humiliate her by giving her no privacy. However, there was no other accommodation available. He opened the door and turned towards Quiet. The sniper glanced between him and the door he was holding open for her. Assuming that she was asking if this was definitely her new home, Jonathan nodded, causing her to look down and enter the cell. Jonathan shut the door to let Ocelot lock it.

"Will she be safe?" Jonathan asked. "Miller might try something."

"I'll deal with Miller." Ocelot replied. "As long as we get something out of her, he should be able to tolerate her presence."

After sniffing in response, Jonathan turned towards Quiet, who was exploring what little there was inside her cell, and grasped the bars of the cage. She looked over at him and tilted her head inquisitively.

"Do you need anything?" Jonathan asked politely. "Water? Food?"

Quiet shook her head, which Jonathan acknowledged with a nod before walking away with Ocelot up the stairs. As the two exited, a group of guards ventured down to watch and guard their prisoner. Jonathan walked towards the edge of the platform and leaned against the guard rail that separated him from a fall into the Indian Ocean. Ocelot stood beside him, the pair looking at the water surrounding Mother Base in silence.

"You wanted to say something?" Jonathan asked quietly, his tone still emulating the man he resembled, as he looked at Ocelot. "You were practically dying to talk while we were taking Quiet to her cell."

"Yes." Ocelot replied solemnly. "It was very brave of you to stand up to Miller like that."

"I couldn't let him kill her."

"And why is that?" Ocelot probed gently. "Why did you spare her?"

Jonathan tore his gaze away from Ocelot to look out across the water again.

"Call it..." Jonathan began after a few moments of contemplative silence. "Call it being a gentleman."

"Ah... Your nationality to the end, eh?" Ocelot suggested, referencing Jonathan's British heritage, which contrasted with Big Boss' American status.

"Something like that." Jonathan mused. "I couldn't bring myself to kill her in that state. She was... Incapable of fighting back. It just seemed wrong to kill her when she can't defend herself."

"That's very honourable of you."

"You think so?" Jonathan asked with a hint of incredulity. "We right now have a woman with powers beyond that of any human in a cell downstairs. I allowed her to be here."

"And what do you intend to do about that?"

"Protect her." Jonathan stated with a hint of sadness. "I'm the one who saved her from execution. I should be the one to eliminate her when it's necessary."

"Will you actually be able to do that?"

Slowly, Jonathan's gaze settled on Ocelot, his mind ticking over as he considered whether he would be able to execute Quiet.

"We'll see when the time comes." Jonathan answered evasively. "When the time comes."


	9. Wordless Bonds

**Wordless Bonds**

Breathing a heavy sigh, Jonathan pushed the door to the infirmary open. The excitement of the day had left him weary, which wasn't helped by the pain that was still shooting through his hand, courtesy of the hole put into it by a well placed round from Quiet's rifle. The only thought occupying him was to shrug off his equipment and crawl into bed for a rest. Shrugging off the webbing he'd worn throughout his assignment, Jonathan winced as he inadvertently pulled a strap off his shoulder with his wounded hand. He clenched his teeth and inhaled sharply, while cradling his hand in the grip of his prosthetic.

His mental complaints about the wound swiftly disappeared when he heard the door shut. Knowing that it was far too heavy to be blown shut, he looked over his shoulder and was given a brief glimpse of Miller, who slammed an open palm against Jonathan's cheek and pushed him against the wall. The armless mercenary leaned against Jonathan to pin him and whispered into his ear.

"Don't you dare think you can order me around, you piece of shit." He hissed acidly. "if you do, I will break you. Do you understand?"

Jonathan huffed back in surprise, his heart racing as his weary brain processed the threat he'd received. However, the lack of a response merely exacerbated Miller's frustration. Gripping Jonathan's hand, Miller slammed it against the wall. The shock passed through the bullet hole and up Jonathan's arm, causing it to become limp as he emitted a pained wheeze.

"Do you understand!?" Miller asked again, but was unable to receive an answer due to Jonathan being dazed by the torture. Exhaling in frustration, Miller reached down with his index finger and pressed against the bloodied bandage covering Jonathan's wound. Jonathan gasped, his eyes bulging as Miller continued to probe the wound. The agony was unlike any of the wounds he'd survived so far. It was a deep, sharp pain, similar to having a trapped nerve, only far more intense, which made his legs weak. Panicked, Jonathan pawed at Miller's hand with his metallic replacement to try and stop him, but the lack of coherent thought made it impossible for him to perform an action more complex, like grasping and pulling the hand away.

"I'll keep going until you answer me." Miller stated coldly as his finger, now partially embedded in the wound, began to twist. Jonathan's legs and jaws went limp, his mouth falling open and his body merely being held in place by Miller pinning him against the wall. His pawing at Miller's hand ceased too as the metallic limb fell to his side, the only action he could process was heavy, panicked gasping as he tried to respond to Miller's demand for an answer. However, his attempts were in vain as Miller interpreted his silence as a provocation and became more callous in his torture.

Miller opened his mouth to reiterate his demand, but was interrupted by the soft patter of liquid against metal. He glanced down to see that the pain he'd inflicted on Jonathan had caused him to lose control of other organs, specifically his bladder. His lip curled into a disgusted scowl as a puddle of urine formed next to Jonathan's boots. Miller retracted his finger and let go of Jonathan, causing the partially unconscious soldier to collapse into the puddle. Miller scoffed and retreated to the exit. Once his hand touched the handle, he turned back to Jonathan.

"Pathetic." He remarked quietly before turning the handle and stepping out. Jonathan's head was swimming as he tried to regain his senses. His vision was blurred and the sound of the door shutting was so faint that he could have made the mistake that he was listening to a door close that was miles away. Realising he was alone, Jonathan shut his eyes as tears welled up and began to drip down his face. He was desperate to pick himself up and get his now wet clothes off, but he was too weak. The feeling of degradation and despair crept into his mind. At no point in his life did he expect the horrors of torture and abuse would be inflicted upon him, but he had just been pinned up against the wall and had a wound so thoroughly violated that he had lost all ability to control his body. With a choked sob, Jonathan wept openly, resigning himself to the fate that he would have to continue to lay in his puddle until his strength returned. The hope of someone eventually find and help him was swiftly dismissed. How could he possibly be seen as the greatest soldier ever if one of Mother Base's inhabitants was to find him laying in a puddle of his own urine? Regardless, Jonathan felt ashamed and guilty. He could easily explain why he was ashamed, since he'd not been able to defend himself against a man with one arm, but he couldn't explain the overwhelming guilt washing over him. It wasn't his fault that he was so similar to Big Boss, nor was it his fault that he'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time in Cyprus, but he still felt guilty over his current state of affairs.

Sniffling, Jonathan opened his eyes and flexed his metallic hand. It wasn't the entirety of his body, but it was a start. Weakly, he reached out and grabbed one of the legs of an infirmary bed and pulled himself towards it. Where he was going hadn't been considered, he just didn't want to lay in the same place any longer. With a pained grunt, he sat up against the bed and looked around the room. He hadn't switched the light on, so it was relatively dark, and the only source of light was the small windows across the top of the wall which the door used to enter the infirmary occupied. Jonathan gazed out of the window at the blue sky and the white flecks of cloud splattered across it. It was a peaceful sight that was the polar opposite of the situation that had just occurred in the darkness and it extracted a few more tears of despair from Jonathan as he stared.

Once a few minutes of contemplative silence had passed, he picked himself up off the floor and staggered across the room, his metallic hand propping him up against the wall for support. He wanted to wash away the shame and sadness he felt was clinging to his body and the only method available was the showers down the hall. Slowly and painfully, he hobbled into the bathroom and continued undressing. Every article of clothing he removed felt like a weight being softly from his shoulders, the odour of urine causing him to wrinkle his nose in disgust. With the uniform now removed, Jonathan eagerly kicked the pile of discarded clothing into the corner and climbed into the shower cubicle. It was enclosed by a simple shower curtain, a middle ground between the lack of privacy provided by communal showers and a proper cubicle with a door. After sliding the curtain across, Jonathan turned the tap on and instantly hissed in mild shock at the sudden downpour of ice cold water.

Shivering, he leaned against the wall of the cubicle and clenched his eyes shut, too weak to retreat from the frigid torrent being unleashed upon his bare skin. His thoughts drifted to his time in basic training with The British Army, how he would be woken up at the crack of dawn by a foul-mouthed corporal, who would pick up the small metal bin beside the barrack door and march through the dormitory bashing it like a cymbal. The perfect alarm clock that would rouse the group of squaddies out of bed and into the showers, where they would stand, naked, under the line of ice cold shower nozzles and wash the fatigue away. Jonathan shook his head and let himself slump to the floor, where he sat with his chin resting on his drawn up knees. The water had warmed up enough for it to be lukewarm, enough to cause his shivering to cease, but not enough for it to be particularly comfortable. After a moment of just listening to the running water, Jonathan opened his eyes and looked at his prosthetic. As he watched the water beat down upon the red replacement and roll off it effortlessly, Jonathan wondered whether he should have removed it before taking a shower or it was waterproof and fine for him to wear indefinitely under any circumstance.

His gaze then turned to his remaining hand and its bloody and drenched bandage, the second of two pieces of irrefutable evidence that he was nothing but a fragile lump of flesh. In mere moments, he had lost one arm with the single swipe of a sword, while the other had a hole through it. Jonathan huffed in disbelief as he considered how he'd received these horrific injuries in the space of a few weeks, while the man he was masquerading as had received them in the course of years. By some miracle, Big Boss had escaped mission after suicidal mission with very little in the way of permanent injury, if one disregarded the missing eye and arm. It was becoming painfully clear to Jonathan that, in all probability, he will eventually run out of luck and die a horrifically gory death.

* * *

The tension amongst those selected to keep an eye on Mother Base's female guest was palpable. The seasoned veterans stood on guard could run through a hail of gunfire without a second thought, but the knowledge that they were in the presence of something completely beyond the capabilities of a normal human rattled them. In a gunfight, bullets don't differentiate between female or male, strong or weak, short or tall, they harm or kill everyone equally. The encounters Diamond Dog personnel had endured against The Skulls was a completely different situation, one that pitted human against inhuman, with usually fatal results for the human. While the sheer amount of guards surrounding the cage brought some comfort to some, none of them could shake the nagging feeling that they weren't in the presence of a real human, no matter how realistic Quiet looked.

The silence that the guards performed their vigil with was broken when they heard the sound of a single person's boots climbing down the stairs. A glance towards the entrance revealed the presence of their leader, the legendary soldier, Big Boss. The entire group immediately stood to attention and saluted solemnly, unaware that they were in the presence of their leader's body double, Jonathan Hyde.

"At ease, soldiers." He ordered in Big Boss' signature growling tone. "How's she been?"

"She's been... Quiet, sir." A balaclava-wearing mercenary responded. "Pardon the pun. She's not done anything of note and we were just about to give her some clothes."

Jonathan looked over towards Quiet. The scantly clad woman had discarded her webbing and boots, which were piled up neatly in the corner, and was laying, face down, on the bed. It was impossible for her not to know that the man she'd attempted to kill was in the room, but she clearly didn't care due to her not bothering to look up. He took a step towards the cage and gestured towards the stairs.

"You're all excused." He grumbled. "Wait outside while I give our guest her clothes."

"Are you sure that's wise?" The mercenary asked inquisitively, but swiftly cleared his throat and looked down submissively. "S-Sorry, I didn't mean to question you, sir."

"It's okay." He responded passively. "It shouldn't take long."

The guards nodded before vacating the area. Jonathan waited until the sound of boots on metal stopped before turning back towards Quiet. The sniper had, in the few moments it had taken for the guards to leave, stood up and was now hugging the bars of her cell, her gaze fixed solely on him. Eyebrow raised, Jonathan took a few calculated steps towards the clothing intended for her by the door to the cell. As expected, she watched him with an expression so blank it could be used as a chalkboard. He then squatted and picked up the clothing, which caused her to let go of the bars and take a step towards him. Jonathan stared back into her green eyes, unwilling to break eye contact.

"I'd like to thank you." Jonathan suddenly stated. Quiet's expression softened momentarily into one of surprise and confusion before solidifying into the stony form she'd been utilising before. Jonathan smirked internally, he'd caught her off-guard by referring to something she couldn't remember.

"For cooperating when we arrived," He elaborated. "And for saving my life. If you hadn't been on-board the helicopter, I doubt I'd be alive to speak to you now."

Quiet continued to stare silently at him, the only indication that she'd heard any of what Jonathan had said was a sudden and deep exhale she emitted through her nose. Carefully, Jonathan removed the simple padlock that kept Quiet secure and opened the door. After stepping inside, he shut it and watched as Quiet took another step towards him. With only the sound of seagulls and the open ocean providing ambient sound, the two warriors gazed at each other warily. After a few moments, Jonathan broke the impasse by stepping forward and holding out the clothes.

"Care to put these on?" He asked forcefully, a veiled request that was actually an order. Quiet's lips parted slightly and she looked down at the clothing before looking back into his eye. Jonathan raised an eyebrow as he studied the blank expression before him, unsure as to whether Quiet was able to actually understand him. While the orders he and others had given upon her arrival had been accompanied by gestures, this order hadn't, so it was possible, in his view, that she didn't understand English, but could guess from the gestures.

"Can you understand me?" Jonathan enquired. Quiet merely blinked in response. Grimacing, he then tilted his head in thought, his mind scrambling through the confines of his memory for the phrases from a variety of foreign languages he had learned from fellow servicemen and phrasebooks for use while posted abroad for the British Army.

"Sprechen sie Deutsch?" He asked, his copied tone making the German phrase a very irregular sound to vocalise. After waiting a few moments without any trace of a response, he tried again.

"Miláte Angliká?" Jonathan enquired in Greek, but received no response too. He took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose in mild frustration. With no other language he could try to communicate with her, he would have to use other methods. He extended his arms a little further, causing the clothes to press against Quiet's chest softly. The sniper looked down and placed a hand on the pile. Jonathan smiled as he believed a breakthrough had been made, but frowned when Quiet pushed the clothing gently away.

"You'll get cold if you don't put some proper clothes on." He explained carefully. "Care to sit down on the bed and I'll help you get dressed?"

Quiet looked towards the bed and then at him. Jonathan celebrated internally at the mistake Quiet had made. At no point had he made a gesture towards the bed when explaining the reason for providing clothing, yet she'd looked at it. She most definitely could understand English to an unknown extent. However, such a revelation wasn't helpful when she hadn't obeyed and sat down as requested.

"If you want to be treated like a child, I'll dress you myself." He stated firmly, his gaze hardening to show the matter wasn't open for debate. When Quiet made no attempt to respond, Jonathan placed his bandaged hand on the top of the clothing to prepare the jacket for the task of forcibly clothing her. His attempt to do so was stopped when Quiet placed her hand on his and gripped it slightly. Jonathan stared at it, studying the smooth, white skin and neat fingernails that the hand holding his was composed of. He then looked up at Quiet, who was still staring, lips parted, and looked deeply into her eyes. He'd never really paid any attention to people's eyes when speaking to them, it was the norm to look at someone's eyes when speaking, but never really took the time to actually process the sight before. He furrowed his brow and concentrated on the emerald irises, making a feeble attempt to see past her eyes and into her mind to ascertain her thoughts.

"You don't want them, do you?" He stated, making a guess from her attempts at hindering him. His mind reeled in frustration as Quiet made no attempt to respond, even if she was a mute, could she not have the decency to nod or shake her head? Jonathan turned his hand over and grasped her hand in return, causing her to glance down to see what he was doing.

"Your stay here won't be comfortable if you don't talk." Jonathan explained. "I don't know if you can talk or not, but it's not helpful if you won't make any attempt to communicate."

Quiet glanced down at his hand again and parted her lips in a manner that appeared to be an attempt to speak, but she never actually made a sound. Tenderly, Jonathan gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Can you nod or shake your head?" He asked politely. "Anything would be helpful."

Much to his disappointment, Quiet didn't respond, causing him to huff in frustration and let go of her hand. Tucking the clothing under his arm, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"At the very least, can you tell me whether you will wear clothes?" Jonathan enquired grumpily. "If you won't wear them, say so now or someone else will inevitably try to clothe you anyway."

Moments passed and Jonathan's heart sank. Clearly, Quiet wasn't going to cooperate unless it was accompanied by the threat of force. As Jonathan began to turn towards the exit, Quiet suddenly shook her head. Jonathan paused before looking at her once more.

"You won't wear clothes?" He clarified and was rewarded with a subtle nod. Responding with a nod of acknowledgement of his own, Jonathan returned to the entrance of the cage and placed the clothes by the door.

"If you change your mind, they are right here for you to use." Jonathan stated quietly as he exited and locked the cell. After giving the sniper a nod farewell, he ascended the stairs leading to the surface and the group of awaiting Diamond Dogs.

"She doesn't want to wear clothes." He informed the group. "I've left them inside her cell, so if she changes her mind, she can put them on herself. Understood?"

The entire group saluted and replied in the affirmative before heading downstairs to continue their vigil. Jonathan rolled his eyes once they were out of sight and swiftly retreated back to the infirmary.


End file.
